Rose

by john valley

I saw a rose
by the way
by a wall
of flaking, brittle, cracked and soot-stained stone

I saw a rose
by any other name
that smelled so sweet
with dew drops in its hair

I saw a rose
by dawn’s early light
pale and wilted by the night
in tangled, dense and twisted underbrush erect and standing tall

I saw a rose
I saw a rose
I saw

but that was yesterday