What a Rose Means To Me

In all my years, i've never met a person so unique. Strength tempered by the toughest tragedies. Seasoned by the deepest hurts and betrayals. Sufferer of physical woes endlessly without complaint. Pillar of strength. With the heart of a little girl. The only one too read all my journals. Know all my secrets. Share all of hers. Take me into her family. The only woman I wrote letters (with ink)...every day for years. The only woman I've written poetry and music for. A vision of beauty and sensuality like I never had known. Wize beyond her years, yet innocent and easily hurt. A woman who held me in the arms and sang to me as I flirted with death before. A woman who supports me, as once I did her. My protector, fearless and potent. One with more faith in me than me. The one who provided me with the greatest love of my life. And best of all, my best friend. Truer than true, more beautiful than my new organ. One I spent 36 hours with in the hospital with, as she was unconscious and near death. One who kept a room for me in her house. My co-chef on numerous occasions. My teacher. My student. Forging ahead against unbelieveable odds to further her education. A symbol of immense significance. A dreamer of my dreams. A sharer of my nightmares. We somehow wander thru life together, in one way or another. A soulmate, if ever there was one. A classroom of life values and example. A remarkable person. She is my Rose. Always was, always will be. For near forty years. A flower in the desert of life. An oasis in a parched world.