There stands alone on a late summer morn,at the doorstep of the Fall
a brilliant pink rose,And I 'm sure it knows,its the last one of them all.
But it doesn't bend or droop with summers age,or look out of place when seen.
its petals are full,its pink color bright...with a sweet scent replacing those that had been.
It faces the house on the south side of its bush,which protect it when the north winds blow.
plus an added advantage for we can see...A lush bush of green with an inner pink glow..
So,there it stands alone,on a late summer morn,a rose
that will signal others,which will come next year for you to appreciate.
and Again the last rose of summer.
(written by her son and given to her on a plaque of rough hewn slab wood and then finished with
an inscription expressing his love for his Mom.)
