Sweet summer rose, surviving autumn frost, 
How come you hang on, when all the rest have lost?

Why does your bloom linger so?
You know it’s time to go.

To spread your petals, 
Releasing your soul, lying where they settle.

I will tend and prune you in the morn, 
Lest I catch my finger ‘pon a thorn.

I know that drop of blood will feed you, 
Bring out that deep, intense scarlet hue.

Maybe you'll remember,
I'll treasure the thought until September.

Until next year my summer rose,
Go to sleep, be beautiful in repose.