Rose

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

About John Valley

Born in Michigan, USA, in 1948, I've since lived all over the US, but back here again. I've worked as operating systems developer, consultant, and published three books on Unix and programming back in the 90's. My interests include philosophy and cooking chili. I can usually be found online in the mornings, on Undernet, chatting with people in the #Philosophical channel.
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