Posted in Poetry, writing

A Rose in Russell Square

My grandmother passed away a few years ago.  I was on the other side of the world.  Her ashes were scattered in Russell Square.  So I wrote this.

The Helen Knight Rose

There’s a spot in Russell square

Where memories are scattered

where summer sun beats on evergreen leaves

where once, something mattered

 

There’s a bench in Russell Square

Brown and worn and stained

Autumn storms dampen spirits and dreams

and love washed away when it rained

 

There’s a footpath, in Russell Square

A million footsteps trodden

Snow melts, removing evidence

winter’s chill forgotten

 

There’s a fountain in Russell Square

whose happy tendrills play

dancing, catching moonbeams glare

Begging those mesmerised, “Stay?”

 

There’s a rose in Russell Square

Neither heard nor smelled nor seen

Resting in eternal vigil there

Free, Happy, Content as she’s ever been.

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