My last flush of roses are blooming today,

Fragrantly unfolding on this crisp October day.

Autumn’s chill is sharpening the air

And the profusion of roses are as big as they dare.

From semi-double to two-hundred petals

They are gloriously beautiful, but have thorns sharp as nettles.

Their beauty isn’t diminished by their armor for me,

I know that such loveliness must be protected from thieves.

A chilling breeze sweeps down from the north,

Turning leaves on the trees to yellow, crimson and orange.

But, the roses blossom in shades of summer true,

And the last forget-me-nots add their touch of blue.

Are October’s roses more sweetly endowed,

Or is it the season that enamours the crowds?

Are roses more lovely in the autumn breeze

Because soon to follow is winter’s freeze?