A Single White Rose ©

It happened on my birthday,
when I was seventy eight.
I saw Joyce with a white rose,
at our front garden gate.

"Look what I've found."
she smiled and held up a plastic pot.
And searching for the sunshine,
stood it in a sunny spot.

A single white rose so delicate,
the years suddenly rolled away.
I stood enchanted by memories,
of a little boy at play.

I had suggested a pretty Jasmine,
to make one corner pretty.
To remind me of Jerusalem,
and around the Holy city.

But the rose awakened a memory,
of all those years ago,
Growing in the hedgerow
when there was no foe,

And beautiful then so it was
growing through a hawthorn hedge.
I was about to pluck it,
but I made a solemn pledge.

Leave it there for others,
who may one day pass this way,
then they too can marvel,
on a beautiful summers day.

Of the natural beauty of nature,
and the wonders of our Spring.
The rose could be the trigger,
that makes all the wee birds sing.