Cheryl Moore

(25th August 1950 / Sydney, Australia)

The Rose Rustler


The sun is surely rising
On yet another day.
Birds are chirping madly
As I head along my way.

I’m searching for that something
That’s missing from my mind.
I dream of finding roses
Lost to all mankind.

The roses in their glory
A smell of strong perfume.
The lure of mystic roses
Bringing me to you.

The rose blooms open slowly
As the sun shines on them so.
I think I’ll keep on looking
In this place that heaven knows.

Tombstones arched by roses
From a long gone time since passed.
Thorns and brambles masking
That rose I’ve found at last.

The search is never over
That rose is never found.
I’ll rustle here tomorrow
Again on hallowed ground.

Submitted: Saturday, December 02, 2006
Edited: Wednesday, December 01, 2010

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