November Rose. <br />Pink and white and mauve. <br />Solitary, still, <br />among the rosemary and late autumnal gorse. <br /> <br />Sea winds have blown. <br />The first frosts have frozen the short grass. <br /> <br />Spring and summer are memories, <br />midwinter an echo in reverse. <br /> <br />November Rose for the dying. <br />November Poppies for the dead, <br />who cannot sleep <br />but stream towards new birth; <br />whose pain outlasts <br />the bitter Flanders earth.<br /><br />Brian Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/11th-hour-11th-day-11th-month/
