The Rose

I know that I am dying, I am fading fast, my life is almost over, by tomorrow I will be dead; and I find myself on a grave stone draped in quietus, come the next dawn- I will be withered gone. A girl brought me to this vast place of deep tears, her sad weeping wet my soft red velvet petals; she had plucked me from my shade in her little garden, oh, I was so happy there growing by the fence. I heard her say the word baby in her sadness, then she placed me gently on this cold tomb to die; will I bring the baby peace- will the baby know me, soon we are alone, baby and me- hello I whisper. My name is Rose, soon I will join you in the other world, that night I watched the moon and stars above; for the last time I knew the dawn and then I gasped, all was still - I was in the hand of a child. The child pressed me to his lips and kissed me beautiful, my petals were no longer brittle cold but lovely; and here we lay under the blue azure sky and cool earth, a rose and a baby boy, joined in death by eternal love. For years we listen to birds singing and wind sighing, the rain gently falling and snowflakes drifting in winter; birds in circled flight above and distant whispers of love, and the tears of a sad girl falling on our tomb . . . and then, she came to be with us . ___________________ August 23, 2016 Poetry/Personification/The Rose Copyright Protected, ID 16-1153-385-0 All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym. Submitted to the contest, Your Choice (10)Personification sponsor, Brian Strand (Code 123) First Place