White Roses

Derek Tyrrell

A petal from white roses 
gently floats to its rest
another reluctantly follows 
knowing its not its best.

The rest look down with wilting heads,
their whiteness slowly greying.
a destined journey to their final beds
and lonely stems left swaying.

Finally the last petal takes the plunge
and bids the stems goodbye
He joins his fellow petal pile
and stops the urge to cry

I thank you for the joy you gave whilst 
sitting on my table
I only wish that your life I could save,
for which I am not able

The joy you give, the smiles you bring,
the never ending pleasure
The memories in your short life with me,
for which I will always treasure.