Fire Rose
Across the woods, there sits a sweet
and tiny cottage place.
The slanted roof is thatched and tight,
the windows filled with lace.
She comes out to tend her garden,
and pulling on her gloves,
A pink bow in her soft white hair,
to sing to her Rose Love.
She held onto the wall,
her pink high-tops step just right,
She walks up to the Fire Rose Tree
and sings this lullaby:
I sing the song of roses,
Red ripe and radiant be,
I thank the Lord and stars above,
For giving you to me
He makes his way across the path,
she sees him now and stands,
For from his tattered pocket
he brought his gift out in his hand.
A wondrous broach bright gold and red
he holds for her to see,
delicate with fleur-de-lis
carved with her Fire Rose Tree.
They've been together 60 years,
through strife and caring breath,
For 60 more they plan to be
until their day of death.
Her heart is filled with love and joy
while he smiles lovingly,
The music from the golden broach
plays this melody:
I sing the song of roses,
Red ripe and vibrant be,
I thank the Lord and stars above
For giving you to me.
Some years have passed, and time is near
for her to say goodbye.
She asks for him to keep the broach
until her time is nigh.
The music now is faded
as the broach will play no more.
His quiet voice begins to sing
for the Rose who blooms no more.
' I sing the song of Rose,
red ripe and vibrant she,
I thank the Lord and stars above
For giving you to me.'
Soon:
They find him there beside her form
entwined upon the quilt
soft music playing from their hands,
about love time cannot wilt.
***
By CeeCee
© 2008 CeeCee
(All rights reserved)
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