NOTHING QUITE LIKE A ROSE
We were looking around a flower garden along the Evangeline trail,
Close to the sea, yet in rich farmland and woods with many an ancient tale,
When we came upon this spot full of flowers so glorious to see,
Of all the many flowers in there it was the roses that haunted me.
Some varieties were carried over, some of the first flowers to be grown
In the gardens of the immigrants, maybe a happy hint of home shown
In these fragrant flowers that can grow so tall and very strong,
Part of a quiet, peaceful garden where birds can sing their song.
From those very old roses were many more shades and colours born,
From the deepest red to pure white, yet each carried a thorn
Orange and even purple hybrids, ramblers that climb very high
All gathered together gave us such beauty to greet each eye
There is nothing quite like a rose with it’s fragrance and beauty,
Especially when in a garden were hundreds grow together in harmony,
They were planted in clusters with bright rose hedges everywhere,
In that special garden with sweet fragrance in the clean air.
I did not realize I liked roses more than other flowers sweet,
Until we wandered through that garden part of our holiday treat,
And we gazed with wonder at those roses there before our eye,
Each one a thing of beauty, I’d give each one the first prize.
(Millicent) Ann Margetson July 8, 2003