Faye Sizemore

THE SCENT OF ROSES…
(And the Memory of a Warrior Poet)

The Scent of Roses… (And the Memory of a Warrior Poet)
Graphic ©Copyright June 2005 by Anthony W. Pahl
My brave young friend Tor…
My roses were blooming
when you died
I sat amongst them and cried…
but I cried not lonely
tears midst their perfume…
many cried with me in the gloom
Mashed potatoes are for laughter
and we will grin about them
… again… in the hereafter
It is again… suddenly… June
The roses have bloomed
Again roses waft their scent
with the evening dew
and… my friend…
Tor… I remember you…