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The First Rose Of Spring
Once the petals adorned her bed
Anticipated spring brought a quenching of her thirst
for love and life had bonded marriage in the beauty
of a rose, always the first picked
The meaning clearly strewn upon the satin
Always, the first rose of spring
Nourishment from the Heavens
Simply blessed the rose above the others
Sunshine penetrated the rose leading to eruptions
Followed by tears of joy
Every time anew, virgin like in its partaking
The rose becoming full with content
Through the winters, rains, and pain
Seemed the rose always maintained its splendor
Even the quakes could not shake its beauty
That had been seen, often heard, and always…felt
The bond would always remain
Standing forefront even on cloudy days
To cast its shadow
Then one day, after days to nights, tears to rain
Once again he looked into the window of his heart
The rose stood silent, shimmering it beckoned to him
The sun’s warmth eliciting its tears, they shared the moment
For they both knew, the rose would never, be picked…again
