October 20, 2014

Lincoln’s Rose

David’s song was tending his garden today
Gentle memories for the woman he loved
Every petal caressed with memory
A clip here, a trim there

Here, he snipped
This is the hardiest rose in my garden
Many look like it
Bright red, velvet allures
The Lincoln Rose
Named for the president you know
I like to think it was the last scent he knew
Smell it, you’ll see
It is unique from all others

My father brought it from Britain
Illegally of course, when he came to visit
Things were lax then
He taught me two things my father
Develop a thick skin
Develop a sense of humour

Oh and let strength work through you to grow
Like these roses
As they age they get strong stalks and spikes of stone
And they provide larger flowers with finer perfume
They tell me to see the good
To talk with all
To see the humour, sad and funny
And to present these symbols of love

And for those who are sour
Stay beautiful and spiked
Either they will be hurt and drop you
Or they will learn to understand, become gentle, work around your pain, and celebrate with you.


1 comment:

Cathy said...

I stop and smell the roses that David tends to every day. I hope that one day he will see my smile.