The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible. ~Vladimir Nabakov

Friday, May 1, 2009

Little red rose

Special was this sunny day
While he was getting wed
Still missing someone dear
Only echoed in his head

Even years later, it is heavy
On his longing aching heart
Yet time healed the yearning
Mainly after many years apart

Mother dear it is my day
While I sit upon your tomb
I call to you one of your sons
Thee who has left thy womb

Hoping you are there with me
As I become a married lad
On this day for my bride and I
Please stand beside my dad

Quietly with some importance
He recalled always-happy days
Never telling mother of his love
Yet showed it many other ways

He felt a warm soothing feeling
Sitting there awaiting a blessing
It swept up fast in a gentle breeze
Mainly his aching heart caressing

Distant church bells woke him
At this of hers final resting place
Then he laid down a little red rose
It was time for his bride to face

Shaking off his fairly cold feet
And gaining a little bit of power
In his ear she whispered gently
I will be with you on this hour

Be very blessed my son forever
And especially on this, your day
Thank you for this little red rose
I send tenfold every first of May

He stood up wiping but the dust
Along with few overdue tears
Feeling numb yet mothers touch
A blessing for many joyous years

At last he stood there by a creek
Taking vows in rosy arch they wed
Looked upon his gorgeous bride
During peacefully setting sun of red

For my babe - knowing he took a rose onto his mother's grave. ♥