Rose Petals At My Feet Poem by Mark Heathcote

Rose petals at my feet look destitute
they're strewn all around our front garden path
they swirl like clouds trying to reconstitute;
it pangs my heart that in their aftermath
once again this summer draws to an end.
And my own, 'Damask Rose', I gave my heart-
didn't open, wasn't for a minute my friend.
Rose petals at my feet will now depart
and winter shall arrive with snow and sleet
spring and summer will come, but never again.
Love-deprived I shouldn't settle for conceit
remembering a once, glowing, warm gem.
Rose petals at my feet foretell our end
no longer in this rose can I pretend?