Red Roses die

Red Roses die

Shrivelled and brittle

Their heavy heads fallen

Crunching underfoot

Tinder dry

The old bones of skeletal trees

Pock-marked landscapes

As deathly as a battlefield

Covered in rust

Bereft of romance.

Oppressive silhouettes

Form a bleak background

To the onset of winter

What once was green

Turned to dust

Following the trend

Everything moving toward

Extinction.

Souring windfall

Rotting fruit,

The grapes on the vine

Filled with the sorrow

Of a bad vintage.

Another year to forget

In a slow decline

The joy of summer

All but lost

In the aftermath,

Of black ice and needle-sharp

Gunmetal skies.