Today’s Poem became more of an extra workout mentally as I expected, there was a lot of rewrites and all to fit a vision. I Hope and pray that this has worked out and folks enjoy this read.
Note: This Poem was born from a vision of a Love that lasted beyond life. It tells the story of a man who out lived his love. Yet with the love in his heart he smiled and tended his roses with love and care. His Roses became a gift to his love at her graveside until his last Rose became more than a gift..
This is the best image for this Poem But it has to work for this one as the Poem is enough for this topic. . All thanks go to AI and its attempt to provide the image I looked for. Thus credit goes to AI for the image.
No Gate Left to Open
Some love does not end,
it simply waits.
With slow, staggering steps he moves to the gate,
His face worn by decades of sorrow and fate.
His feeble hands fumble at roses he nursed,
Each bloom born of love he had learned first.
His days drift by doing small duties with care,
Feeding birds with a smile, soft joy in the air.
With trembling hands tending roses in prayer,
Their thorns teach him pain, yet their petals repair.
Years gather like frost on his once, steadfast frame,
As roses outlast him, though roots stay the same.
Rooms breathe with the memories lovingly held,
Like pressed petals saved from a life once excelled.
As seasons turn softer, his steps lose their pace,
The roses grow wild, yet still hold their place.
He prunes them with patience as strength slips away,
Letting some wither like parts of each day.
In all weathers woven, weary yet true,
He cuts a lone rose where the old bush still grew.
Laid gently in silence by love’s resting stone,
A bloom speaks devotion where words had outgrown.
With steps slowing still as he reaches that place,
He pauses once more at the stone’s weathered face.
No gate left to open, no path left to roam,
The rose rests beside her, he’s finally home.
Copyright © 2026 Pat Fitzgerald
All Rights Reserved
Thank you for following me on my little journey, that is composing or writing poetry. If Life is a journey which we all walk on and my journey in creating Poetry is a journey of it’s own. Which I still learn much on as I write.
At times I experiment on methods or way how I can improve my poetry, therefore getting feed back is always most welcome for such as these.
When I write poetry, some readers may be offended with something within the poetry. I do not write to offend, But such are written for reasons I outline in the posts. Often I miss typos and mistakes when publishing each poem. I correct the moment I discover such mistakes.
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