THE BRIGHTON ROSE
A rose named Brighton
For your funeral flowers
A stunning golden yellow hue
The place you were born Son
But now sadly gone Son
This yellow rose so perfect
I pray my Son you see it too
A year has gone by
Your family and I
Want to celebrate your life
~ a son and a daughter
~ your mum
~ your wife
We take a short walk
to the Bandstand
and to the sea beyond
For our gift to you
the Brighton rose
A symbol of our love
But oh my dear
You have other ideas
Was it you
Were you having some fun
For the rose keep returning
Despite the tide turning
And kept ending up on the beach in the sun
Several times your dear son
Threw it back in the sea
Were you sending it back to me
With love in our hearts we shed a few tears
When all of a sudden a small child appears
Clutched in her hand a pink fishing net
Wondering what she will catch
And before we can stop her
your rose she doth net
You can sense her excitement
skipping over the stones
Taking your rose to her Mum
Your wife at this point
dashed to retrieve
saying …
‘The rose is for my husband
we had put it in the sea
So I would be very grateful
if you return the rose to me’
The mother she was mortified
both gasping apologies
And once again
the yellow rose
submerged in a wintery sea
But it returned again and again
and that is when you spoke to me
‘Mum
I am cold and wet
Please take me home I plea
Don’t leave me in the sea’
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
the yellow rose I dried
and tears of joy I cried
now in a vase
here next to me
your Brighton Rose
is here forever
just for me
to see…
Written 17th November 2020
Copyright © Ann Gilmour | Year Posted 2020
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