‘Twas in my youth, in my prime

When first I saw the rose

Standing so lovely and so tall.

She within her family bed

And I a Mountain Columbine

Growing snugly against the wall.

 

‘Twas love at first glimpse

The beauty of her form

Her color so pure and clean.

The turn of each petal

The arch of each leaf

A delicacy so rarely seen.

 

A love that is futile

Forbidden and rare

Dependent upon the breeze

Whose gentle caress

Lets us touch but a moment

A fleeting memory to seize.

 

Each breeze that brings a touch

Is welcomed with delight

As it brings the joys of love

It is a blessing in disguise

Meant only for the two of us

From the Great Gardener up above.

 

As the seasons go slipping by

Each with perils all their own

Our lives begin to slip away.

We reach out and touch

As often as we can but wonder

Will we ever have OUR day.

 

Days grow short as winter nears

With frost upon our crowns

More frequent now we grieve.

For day by day, one by one

We watch the members

Of our family leave.

I woke early on this morn

With thoughts and hope forlorn

To see the caretaker as he draws near.

He removes my Rose

From her bed

The Rose I hold so dear.

 

Now alone and forlorn I stand

Against my empty wall

And hang my weary head

The future now is gone

He took it with My rose

I wish he had taken me instead.

 

But lo ! Over there !!

In the distance and far away

What is this wonder that I see?

‘Tis true, oh joy, ‘tis true

In the caretaker’s hand

My Rose he brings to me.

 

‘Twas only to prune her limbs

And to clean her roots

And to lengthen her life.

Oh joy of joys he gives to me

Just to know she still is

Will lessen all my strife.

 

What is this? He passes her bed

Brings her near to me

Plants her by me — so divine.

Now our touch is real

Everyday for eternity

Forever our hearts will twine.

 

© 2002, David B. McCurley