Paddy's Rose
A white rose
In bloom on Paddy’s grave
White the colour of his fur
And white was once the colour for true love
I planted the bush the day he died
And now it’s part of him
The day we lost him
Is still too painful to think about
St Patrick’s Day
I remember, instead
The year before Pads died
We expected to lose him then
But stronger medication gave him more time
Gave us more time
Eastertime
The garden full of happy daffodils
Like the whole world was smiling with us
Now I stand at his grave
Kiss the last rose
And whisper, ‘I love you.’
4th November for Constance’s Elegy contest
Copyright © Jack Horne | Year Posted 2013
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