Rose Cottage

a poem by Thelma Elizabeth Zaracostas, Australia - poetry writer, author, poet

Rose Cottage

Even on the windest of days mother and I would
Don our coats, gloves and
woolly hats then walk holding hands along the
long winding track.

We knew, that we would soon
come upon a white wood sign
hanging from silver chains
on either side.
The sign that read this is Rose Cottage.

White roses flowed along
the wood paling fence.
Perfume oozed from
the new born buds that
pushed their way to
bloom in the the golden sun.

Windows half opened
welcomed the perfumed smell
that was blown along by
the gentle breeze.
We knew that there was
life inside.

Some one was playing on a piano brahms lullaby.
That made my dear mother cry.
The aroma of freshly baked bread drifted out through the
half open window.

Then there was the lazy white cat
who made himself comfortable on the veranda.
These were the special times
I would treasure with my darling mother.

I was growing older school
study, socializing with
my friends, no time to visit my
"Rose Cottage"

father had passed away.
Mother worked hard to
pay for my education.
Then I met and married Bill.
Had a child life was fine
then my darling mother died.

Bill and I moved on, soon our second child arrived.
Rose Cottage was always
on my mind, planned
to return when I had time.

Raising my family took all
my time
School and college years
flew by.
Soon our children
married had children
of their own.

Finally we had time
to ourselves, we both
agreed that I would follow
my dream Rose Cottage here I come.
I hurried to catch the train arrived at my destination
on such a windy day
donned my coat, gloves and
woolly hat then walked along
the long winding track.

When I arrived I stood in awe, the white wood sign hung from
one rusted chain.
White roses now burnt from the sun, hung along the once white paling fence.
Stench oozed from the buds that never had a chance to bloom in the blazing sun.

No sound from a piano, no aroma of freshly baked bread
No lazy white cat on the veranda.
Then a voice from behind me said I live next door
then went on to say it's for sale, years ago both passed away
her brother wants a quick sale it's going cheap I hear say.

Came here as newly weds
loved their garden.
Tendered it with loving care.
She in her long flowing dress large rimmed floppy hat.
He in his white shirt, baggy pants and old straw hat.
when they passed on no one took the trouble.
Rose cottage began to crumble.

Tears filled my eyes as I ran back along the long winding track.
I wanted that cottage of long ago.
Maybe Aunt Flo's legacy? who knows.

Yes, you guessed it Bill and
I bought the cottage.
Restored it to it's former glory. The wood sign now hangs from silver chains.
white roses flow along the
white paling fence perfume oozes from the new born buds pushing their way to bloom in the golden sun.
windows half opened welcome the perfumed smell blown along by the gentle breeze

Bill now plays brahms lullaby on the old piano.
The lazy white cat is long time gone, my white poodle now has his spot.
Every Sunday the happy sound of our grandchildren can be heard as they run amongst the white roses at Rose cottage
Dreams do come true, don't they?

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