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, 


With the pink-red

Of your lips’ touch. 

Rose Valley

October 8, 2020