Wild Rose

Roses in November are the sweetest.
Their colors are much softer in that light.
Their petals often ruffled, sometimes damaged,
Hold a promise as the winter comes in sight.

The rose hips, like bright berries, Glossy, gleaming, 
To protect the promise made, close up tight.
 Flowers will bud and bloom beautiful again some day
After winter’s slept the cold and lonely night.

Published by Elece

I am a photographer and a freelance writer. I write stories, poetry, gift books, and magazine articles––both print and online. Photographing children, places, and especially flowers is my hobby.

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