The petal of a rose once fell

then drifted slowly through the trees.

Upon the wind it tumbled long

until it drifted up to me.

At first, I saw no value there

in just one petal all alone.

But then I stooped and picked it up

and found that it was still a rose.

I felt its velvet touch my skin,

as its aroma filled the air.

I breathed to take the fragrance in,

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I woke one day as I recall,

years back in time but not in mind.

The reason I know not at all,

but felt I there and humbled knew,

for peace distilled as morning dew -

life is a gift indeed.

Then from that morn

the years have passed,

whilst way to way filled up the day

and brought me where I stand at last -

worn thin of wear and weak of will.

Yet in my mind the...

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