Where the Roses Bloom

She looks out the window
From her old rocking chair
With wrinkles on her face
And gray in her hair

She talks about her roses
And, as she smiles, she'll say
"Those roses are pefect,
God made them that way"

"They're more than just flowers,
They're a symbol of love;
"A gift from on High
From the Father above"

"The thorns will remind us,
Of the pain that He bore;
"And its petals, the beauty
Of Heavens sweet shore"

"My time is near over,
I'll be leaving here soon;
"And I want you to bury me,
Where the roses bloom"

My grandmother showered us 
In the love that she gave
And there's three dozen roses
That now cover her grave
Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

Poem

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Murphy Avatar
April 30, 2010 at 1:16 PM
oh how sweet very good write have a great weekend faleshia
Taylor Avatar
April 30, 2010 at 12:10 PM
What a nice story. Shows some insight. Grannys are like that.
Amero Avatar
April 30, 2010 at 11:23 AM
Sweet. I could picture a sweetly, beautiful grandmother rocking away ... nice write. Just had to take a quick peek your way today, my friend. Tony
White Avatar
April 30, 2010 at 8:34 AM
Fantastic poem, so true to life- Smiling as I type this, for your grandma's words
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