The"Race of the Rose" Poem

A single bud sits atop the rose bush.
Does it know it is in a race against the fall?
Can it hear the tree tops move against the winds rush?
Does it know it has its back against the wall?

An un-blossomed treasure struggles to be free,
As autumn pushes dead leaves down the walk,
Will these soft petals open out their final beauty,
Or die unsheathed and frozen to the stalk?

The signs of seasons change are all around.
The rose is unfamiliar to its plight.
If it could hear the autumns urgent sound,
The rose would have put up a better fight.


A single bud sits atop the rose bush.
Does it know its in a race with the fall?
Can it hear the trees move with the winds rush?
Does it know its back is against the wall?

Un-blossomed treasure, trying to break free,
as autumn pushes dead leaves down the walk,
Will these petals open out their beauty?
Or die unsheathed and frozen to the stalk?

The signs of seasons change are all around.
The rose is unfamiliar to its plight.
If it could hear falls approaching sound,
the rose would have put up more of a fight.