The Wind O’er the Roses
Remember, my darling, the wind o’er the roses
The scent of pink you breathe into your soul
The bluebell’s small sweetness, the raspberry blossoms
and more shades of green than your great heart can hold.
Remember, my darling, the bright sun of summer
the soft breeze that cools and caresses your brow
Birdsong and bee buzz and butterflies dancing
the hare that lies hidden, the fox on the prowl
Remember, my darling, the wind o’er the roses
when the north wind howls and the nights are too long
Close your eyes, take my hand and think of the solstice,
Remember the words to summer’s sweet song.
and remember, my darling, the wind o’er the roses again.
In late June the scent of the wild roses along the road that leads to my home is almost intoxicating. There is a purity and innocence to the fragrance of the wild pink roses. It is a thing one stores in one’s memory, to tell over when the snow and the temperature falls.
Linda Studley 