Wild rose
Night air clean and well
washed by the rain
freshened by sweet
scented wild rose.
Carried to rambling fence lines
filled with pink blossoms
Carried to another time
and to another place.
A younger place of childhood
dreams. With prairie space
as wide as the dreams
and much wider than the
narrow paths I have taken.
Now pausing on this forest hill
with still the wild rose scent
I see the road before me and
with fresh strength
and childhood energy
I hold you close
knowing now that the way
is there for me to enjoy.
Angus 20/6/01