This morning I heard the roses crying
Because the world was so mean . . .
Then in the mist of morning I heard
It’s far worse than it seems . . .
The dew drops from their pedals
As time moves at its own pace.
As I walked in the mist of morning
In my heart I know . . .
This beauty that’s laid before me
Is more precious than silver or gold.
The dew drops from their pedals . . .
And the wind dances at their feet –
Yes the world has gone mad . . .
But here in my garden life is still sweet!
Epaphroditus© September 18, 2023
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