The Last Rose

the last rose of summer stands so ever watchful
as it does at this time every year
blooming full and beautiful 'fore fall
becomes the color of the smallest tear

it signals that another year has past
that my place is limited to time
that all things born were never meant to last
as i pass fom this life to sublime

the rose is but a subtle small reminder
that my time is precious to be spent
on things i've always hoped for to be kinder
before my final moment this time rents

i am but a passing conciousness
the rose a lovely sight i am so blessed