Rose Valley
The valley is silent
Save for the shuffling
Of red roses,
Gently kissed
By the sweet breeze
Of my child-like longing.
And soft, soft,
They whisper
Your careful words;
Closely, I listen.
They say from the hilltops,
Somewhere near the shuls,
They hear you singing
Amidst the roar
Of the nearby falls.
And somewhere, a note
From the mellow tunes,
Speaks of a name
You so oft used
To call me.
In the hush
Of the approaching noon,
Their scent caresses
My being.
I see them dancing
To my strides,
All abloom; their petals,
Washed
With the pink-red
Of your lips’ touch.
Rose Valley
October 8, 2020