Houses or Homes

Winter Roses

The winds stroked my cheeks,

 Like the hands of a loving mother.

The trees swayed,

As if the howling wind was music.

The snow lay upon the ground,

Like a clean white sheet over a bed.

The plants hung low,

Sad that the winter was brought early.

I see this all as I walk along the snowy path,

The path I walk through the park every winter.

For one thing.

The blooming roses,

Whiter than the crisp snow.

Winter roses,

Stand tall everywhere.