The Rose


The lavender rose my lover bought
to match my witch’s hair
hovers over the far unfocused photograph
of us alone in Cambridge,
swimming in the lovely passion
for being forever together
that grows and strengthens
even as we age into our own future,
photograph and future both
taken by our son’s beautiful wife.

The future is theirs now-
enough for us the perpetual now
that shines and swirls with the madness
of seeing ourselves and our world
more clearly than was wise
before we gained the strength of age,
forgotten at the age of reason,
returned to us now
in our long happiness and
in the eyes of their son.

Eyes that see full circle
like the seraphim
know the wall we lean on
as fully as we see
the other in the self,
the self in the other-
melting, meshing, finally
leaking in a single stream
from this universe
into the beautiful next.


About janemwoodman

Singer, writer, restaurant reviewer, urban farmer, devoted lover of my husband....old and getting happier all the time.
This entry was posted in Free verse, joy, love, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

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