Twelve Roses

Into a vase I placed twelve roses; I watered them with my love; I chased away for at least awhile The pain that kept her from smiling. Upon the mantle of her heart The roses bloomed with warmth To start then faded into memory. As we talked our friendship grew The hours became far too few. We placed aside the ordinary; We traveled to distant shores; We tasted Europe’s finest foods And drank from vintage stores Of wine and scenic interludes. Each day hence I felt her less Her mind was slipping into rest. There were days, though few When we again walked anew Where joys of life were brought To mind, where life seemed so sublime, Far from the grasp of time. Then one day she told me plain That Jesus would her soul sustain, That I not worry about that day For which she often prayed. Into a vase I placed twelve roses; I watered them with my love; I chased away for at least awhile The pain that kept her from smiling.