Roses needn’t be red, white or yellow.
I see purple in them, as in lilacs and orchids.

I take a few moments to sit in my room,
empty my mind of tiring tasks,
and taste the rose-scented rippling air
of my summers and winters.

In my twilight years, I discover the shades
of my decades, noticing deep colors.
Purple is in my moods, sorrowful or peaceful,

watching sunset’s amethyst clouds
darken the roses or the butterfly’s violet
wings skimming over regal petals.

I feel roses’ moist buds, see the sound
of falling blossoms in sun and rain
during this short stay.