I walked a path where roses swoon.
I walk this path most afternoons.
The crunch of gravel keeping time.
As blackbirds sing on washing line.
This path I walk did lilies grace.
And brushed their perfumes 'round my face.
The soothing scent of lavender.
A purple haze, spectacular!
I walked this path 'neath shaded oak.
Where Roy once sat and wrote his notes.
The roots and branches of this tree.
Bore witness to his poetry.
I walked a path on Internet.
This led me to dear Voicesnet.
And like the path I walked before.
This path I'll walk for evermore.
This place where garden roses bloom.
And Roy is there most afternoons.
Observing him with pen and pad.
I'm glad we both did walk this path.
Kind Regards to Roy and Ralph and thinking of you both at this time.