How a Blue Rose Came To Be

Once upon a time, many years ago, There was a sweet and lovely - red, red Irish rose, That was plucked prematurely, from the garden vine; A budding beauty, taken in her prime. She was laid to rest, upon the death, of a lovers dream; Upon a chest of ebony, where lie, his would-be Queen; Lowered deep into the depths, of the church yard cemetery; Her scarlet petals, wilting in the summer breeze. Then the earth begin to fall, like autumn leaves; Upon her petals, and the chest of ebony, From above her tomb, where stood the grieving groom Weeping , weeping, like a willow tree. Then the sky begin to disappear, amid that mournful cry, As tears - from above, fell from that lovers eyes, And came to rest, like dew drops on that Irish rose, As she disappeared beneath the earth, there in his grief below ~~~~~ In time, he laid a stone of ivory - upon her grave; Etched deeply - with the promise he had made: To love his Irish Rose - forever and a day. ~~~~~ The years and all their seasons came and went And a million lonely tears were cried and spent Upon her grave where everyday he kneeled and prayed And dreamed of her until his dying day. ~~~~ The epigram has long since faded on the ivory stone That still stands alone upon her grave Where from the million tears of love he gave A seemingly impossible - blue, blue rose has grown.