I bent to smell the roses

I bent to smell the roses
when innocence was mine
I bowed to see that vivid colour
that gladly took my eye

I bent to watch the dew climb
in my unremembered land
a time of salient beauty
that was light upon my hand

I did not see the greenfly
or the falling of the day
I did not see the dying
or the hue of life's decay

I bent close to watch the thorns emerge
on strong and vibrant stems
until they scratched my vision
and memory left again

Now I bend to smell the roses
and see what can be gained
but childhood lands are far away
they will not return again.