The last rose of summer

Gone are the butterflies, and bumblebees; the warm scents of summer that waft on the breeze.

Gone are the birds building nests up on high, tenderly teaching their chicks how to fly.

Gone too the sunsets, the Shepherds' delight.  Promising days of warmth and delight.

Gone lovely hollyhocks seven feet tall, bursting their bondage from high fence and wall.

Hardiest of all, and longest to see, the last rose of summer leaves a sweet memory.

Mg