As we left the restaurant from our dinner out last night a spring storm began to move in. While I waited in the truk for my wife, I noticed the roses in front of me begin to wave with the breeze; I’m not sure I captured it in the photo but hopefully I did in the haiku.
The old home place was long gone now. Still, I liked to visit where it once stood when I was in the area. Grandma’s roses once led down the gravel walkway, a lush green hedge from spring through fall, bursting with pink petals intermittently as they bloomed. Overgrown now, the roses strangled by weeds and vines, the pathway would be indistinguishable to anyone not knowing to look for it. The sweet smelling roses are now only a memory, like Granny and Papaw. The honeysuckle that has overtaken the beloved flowers require no loving care. Yet the emitt an enchanting – but entirely different – fragrance; I’m not sure I like it.
Covered in fragrant white blooms
Thicket of perfume
This is my attempt at composing a kikôbun/haibun, linked to the Time Glass challenge perfume at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai.