The Blue Rose
The little boy reclined in his bed.
Out of reach, by his foot, a blue rose lay.
His mom had been looking for quite a while
for something she thought would make his day.
Where did this come from mama?
She moved it to within his grasp.
When the little boy touched its stem
His mother’s computer recorded a gasp.
The rose, rather limp, in a sad sort of state,
stood straight and firm, back from the dead.
And as he and mom stared in wonder;
one by one by one, each petal turned red.
His short hair, mistaken at first glance
for a buzz cut, military style.
Revealed upon closer inspection,
radiation treatments for a long, long while.
Fact is, this was his last night with mom,
with his cat and his parakeet.
His last night with this magic rose,
left, again wilting, on the sheet.
Later when she could bear the pain,
she went back and gathered his clothes.
All the things of his, she should keep,
but, she could not find the red, red rose.
As she made her way down the long hall,
she glanced from the elevator door,
at a frail little wisp of a girl in bed,
and a long stemmed blue rose on the floor.
© Jun 15 2010 For Mac's "Blue Rose" contest
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