When I drive through the country and see a deserted house with flowers still
growing at the roadside, or beside the house, I wonder who planted them.
My photo is of a deserted cottage in Brown County, Indiana, which inspired
my poem.
Submitted to dVerse Poetics
March 28, 2017
Mary planted roses by the door
In that time so long ago
Through lace curtains at the window
She watched them bloom and grow.
Those days are long since gone
Faded into pages of the past
But still the roses vine and bloom
Each year as beautiful as the last.
The lace now hangs in tatters
The cottage vacant and still
The oaks still overlook it all
From their spot upon the hill.
Mary is but a memory
To those who loved her best
But still her roses vine and bloom
Since she’s been laid to rest.
So we, too, leave a legacy
In small things we have done
And we leave a gossamer footprint
That lingers after we have gone.
Gossamer footprints are the best kind to leave I think. Tread lightly.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful. A legacy of nature....a vine that represents Mary's life still blooms midst tattered lace. Loving your imagery.
ReplyDeleteThis legacy is so much better than most...
ReplyDeleteI suspect those roses miss Mary's movements through the doorway.
ReplyDeleteEvery cottage needs a climbing rose, and someone to care for it. A lovely partnership.
ReplyDeleteLove that final stanza and its gossamer footprint.
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely tribute to Mary and her beautiful blooms ~ May we be like her, leaving our gossmer footprints~
ReplyDeleteMary nurtured nature and so it lives on. A lovely poem.
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely poem and what a legacy to leave. And she made gossamer footsteps. Exactly how we should tread on the earth. I imagine the roses missing Mary.
ReplyDeleteVery pleasant song of the truth
ReplyDeleteGosh, that's a great legacy. It makes me think I need to be more purposeful. You have inspired me.
ReplyDeleteLove that "gossamer footprint."
ReplyDelete"So we, too, leave a legacy
ReplyDeleteIn small things we have done"
how. how beautiful! <3 <3 <3
the best kind of legacy one can leave behind...beauty does speak through these flowers....
ReplyDeleteYour sweet & haunting words rock the prompt--but perhaps a legacy can be in the eye of the beholder. What if Mary was a terrible person, wife & mother, and it was her hen-pecked husband who tended the roses?
ReplyDeleteYou scamp! Now you've gone and made me wonder about Mary. Maybe she was Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary ...
DeleteThis is poignant. What a legacy.
ReplyDeleteWhat a charming entryway is in the photo. I often wish I can have that kind at home.
ReplyDeleteHaving said that, I find your poem both bittersweet and triumphant- the beauty of the roses cannot be seen separately from the person who tended them and who is now unfortunately gone. But then, there is this beautiful legacy that makes the person live on somehow. :-)
~Imelda
Theme running through this is so like a vine. Lovely writing, Bev.
ReplyDelete