Rough round that rose bordered hem
we ran, regardless of where her skirts
did scurry, no fretting to the fraying
of her fringes, never noticing how
nimble had turned to not-so nifty
above that border of red roses, oh
so pretty, on those placid petticoats
until we laid her low, on a hill so high,
hemmed in forever by a border
of bright red roses, and only then
did we sigh, only there, by her final bed,
bordered in by all we took for granted,
did we feel that teary thorn that
comes at the end of every rose.
This beautiful poem is by Damien B. Donnelly. For me, it’s about family, coming together, time passing, memories – all those things we do at Christmas time. Damien writes gorgeous poetry and takes amazing photographs. A generally very talented person, who blogs at https://deuxiemepeau.blog.