THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER

That time should be so rich yet fugitive a pageantry.

For sake it then awhile, and with us fly

Into the past where nothing now can die:

Where even the young and lovely, old and staid

Live on unchanged – of purest fantasy made.

Prologue – W. de la Mare

A rose,

a few hydrangea,

a cluster of lilies, a dropping dahlia,

these are the last flowers of summer.

I say autumn is my favorite season but this cold, sad  day I searched the garden for these last few flowers.  I wanted to hold on to summer for just a little longer.  I wanted to fly into the past where nothing now can die, where what is young and lovely live on unchanged.

And, those who hold me close know why I write these words.  For all your love and understanding I am deeply grateful.

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