These Roses

by Julie Corbett

Become dark, more muted shades of crimson
as they reach their permanent wilting point.

Remarks about romantic weekends away
one subject in a thorny bunch of talk.

Fretting over choices, asparagus in season,
potted Cromer crab or watercress soup.

We courted through an English drought.
Married in one that became a must have

designer accessory for rock and roll stars,
had us singing and dancing in parks and streets

for a while. Things change or maybe it starts
to rain. Yes, maybe it starts to rain.