The Autumn's Final Rose Poem by John Yaws

I saw it in the flowerbed,
Stirred briefly by the wind.
Faded and bedraggled-
Beauty now come to an end.

Two weeks ago, so lovely
But that's the way it goes.
I'd write a line in tribute,
To the autumn's final rose.

So full were all it's petals-
With the blushing flush of youth...
Now hardly pink, more greyish...
And I realized the truth.

As the flowers in the garden-
In life I fear that we...
Likewise fade with passing time,
Like flower, bush, or tree.

While driving through the mountains
A year or two ago...
I saw the autumn colors...
Each valley seemed to glow:

It happens when the timber,
Feels the winter's chilling breath...
The time of greatest beauty-
Is the omen of their death.

And so I thought about it-
Of people I have known...
I saw the beauty of their lives-
And then they soon were gone.

So now in recollection-
I'll pen these lines of prose...
A tribute to the beauty-
Of the autumn's final rose.