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Author Name: Freealiopterix 4 Comments
Date Added: May 01, 2012 22:05:02 Average Score: (Needs 2)
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Type: Rhyming
Category: Love Add To Favorites | Text Only
The Rose

The Rose

A gnarled and aged hand did pick the rose

The dew-drops on the petals sparkling bright;

Was this the one that she would choose who knows?

But in his heart he felt that this was right;

'Twas on her birthday every year he knelt

And gently cut for her this favourite flower;

Yet now this day as rose he plucked he felt

Upon his head and from the sky a shower;

Perhaps she wept for him this man alone

Who honoured her now as he did in life;

A gentle man was he no heart of stone

Missed he his love his confidante his wife;

He clasped the rose as he did every year

Looked into the rain in his eye a tear.

Author's Notes:
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'The Rose' Copyright © Alistair Muir
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Comment By: FreeFirestone Feinberg on May 2, 2012 11:58:03 AM Report
A beautifully conceived and finely-crafted poem with much tenderness.  Has to touch the heart.  Full of deep sentiment.  --David
Comment By: FreeTomahawk on May 2, 2012 10:56:50 AM Report

We did the same thing for my mom, gone almost five years now. My dad and I always bring roses to her gravesite.Written with strong pathos and a very poignant work, Al, I feel ya.



Comment By: FreeLady Dragonwyck on May 2, 2012 10:37:04 AM Report
After my Mom died, I always took a rose to my Dad on Mom's birthday.  I would place it by a picture of her in the living room. 
Dad appreciated this so much.  They are both in Heaven now; but, I still think of my Mom/roses, as she loved them and had many rose bushes at the house.  I did enjoy this write. 

Lady D

Comment By: FreeAminath Neena on May 1, 2012 11:40:54 PM Report

A touching beautiful as the dew drops!


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