Holding a Wilting Red Rose
I carried it on my lap all the way to you,
The bus ride was so long, so long, Mom;
Lost in old memories of you and me, together,
I just looked out the window all the way.
Holding a wilting red rose ~
The gate of the cemetery creaked as usual,
The path filled with many crumbling leaves;
Cool wind took my long raven hair blowing it back,
I felt my tears falling as I neared your tomb.
Holding a wilting red rose ~
I stood for a long time with my eyes closed,
The words carved in stone and in my heart;
Feeling the pride of a daughter for a wonderful Mom,
I fell to my knees weeping for what is lost.
Holding a wilting red rose ~
Then at last I rose and dried the forever tears,
I touched the words carved on your cold tomb;
And retraced my steps down the path, closing the gate,
I boarded the bus and was soon lost in thought.
Holding a wilting red rose ~
. . . . . still
________________________________
May 11, 2014
Poetry/Verse/Holding a wilting red rose
Copyright Protected, ID 05-565-847-11
All Rights Reserved, 2014, Constance La France
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2014
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