Imagine all the love our lives enclose
if placed within walled garden’s memory.
There gently falls the rain where grows the rose
as droplets tremble in the wind and flee.
A wondrous world with rain-bowed colors blown
‘neath places in the sun where true things grow.
So be our rose whose petals now are flown
yet youth and passion’s heart remain and glow.
Oh, love’s true colors want to beam and breathe.
She grows, undying, in green bowers where
her petals show a bold, bright destiny
so wild, her vines are willing yet to share.
And our imagined rose, forever free
remains within our garden’s memory.