‘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