Sitting on a shelf
Is a fancy etched bowl
Of such unusualness.
It's filled with memories,
And deep red petals.
Some are smooth,
And some are velvety.
Some are crinkled,
And some are shinny.
But all are of the same red color.
None have stems,
And none have thorns.
None have leaves,
And none have centers.
They've all been pulled after their season.
They came in bouquets,
And came by the dozen.
They came once a year,
But never ever singly.
They were given with very much love.
The bowl is nearly full,
But there's room for a little more.
Each year petals are put in,
And looks to hold no more.
But next year there's still more room.
This little glass bowl
With design so pretty,
Seems to hold so very much.
How can it be so small
And yet seem bigger with each passing year.
Glass can't grow,
So what makes it seem so?
Petals do shrink when dried,
But only so much.
Each year it holds even more.
Wonders of Wonders,
And miracles do happen.
Could this little bowl
Hold so much love......
Of memories and twenty years of Rose Petals?
by Jann Newland
(copyright-Aug. 2002)
