Wild Roses
I fain would write a timely poem
Of politics and polls
Of oil spills and postal strikes
Of taxes, wars and goals.
But lo, ‘twas not my diascope
This timely news to share,
For ‘tis delivered daily
At my step and on the air.
But ‘tis the timeless messages
The poet’s pen discloses
Tell of moss on ancient oak
Speak of wild roses.
Reach out past the greedy hands
Destruction and deceit
Show them beauty, truth exist
There, beneath their feet.
©1975 Sharron R. McMillan
Thank you Heather, I needed that positive affirmation today. 😉
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Love that poem – and, of course, the wild roses we used to smell and smell as kids in Alberta. You always were a romantic and, yes, your beauty as a poet is to show the beauty all around – “beneath our feet”! Through your poetry we are reminded to stop and smell the roses. Thank you for that.
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