The Scent Of Roses...
(And The Memory Of A Warrior Poet)
My brave young friend Tor...
My roses were blooming
when you died
I sat amongst them and cried...
but I cried not lonely
tears midst their perfume...
many cried with me in the gloom
Mashed potatoes are for laughter
and we will grin about them
… again ...in the hereafter
It is again...suddenly...June
The roses have bloomed
Again roses waft their scent
with the evening dew
and ...my friend..
Tor...I remember you…
©6/2/05 Faye Sizemore
In Memory of Toralf Cod
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