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Monday, 21 November 2016

roses - Poetry by Bill Hannan

roses

my mother met my father
out where the saltbush grows
he spoke to her of fleeces
and gave her a red red rose

his roses grew in the garden
he tended round the homestead
as the grasses on the plains turned grey
the roses bloomed white and red

although I prefer native flowers
for roses I make an exception
red to recall my father
yellow for joy and celebration 

to honour our golden wedding
my sister gave us a rose
by day it numbers the years gone by  
by night how many to go    

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