One Red Rose

One single truth is all we know,
all things die - some fast, some slow;
what stands up will soon lie down,
be it flesh, or what flesh has known.

The lofty tree in our backyard,
death will find and lay down hard;
the pyramids that were built to last
will not be seen in someone's past.

The little boy who becomes a man
will be part of all the earth we scan;
the little girl, when old is she,
will lie beside her man to be.

All things gathered, vast and tall,
or of a stature considered small,
will know the truth of one red rose
which lives to die and decompose.

J.D. Heskin

If you've any comments on this poem, J.D.Heskin would be pleased to hear from you.