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Rated: E · Poetry · Family · #1113077
A tribute to my Grandmother
Somewhere a crimson rose on a snow bed lies,
Somewhere out in the niht a rose now dies.
Once beautiful with a lavish blush,
now hastened and chastened; now crushed.

This rose with petals withered round its stem
now sing I this final requiem.
Even now this courtyard round,
has amassed their soft, sorrowful sound.

Yet, in this light the wounds that
fate hath shed; heal silently
with blood it bled.
Rest thy dear child for not all is lost,
though this fragile rose hath fallen
and paid a frightful cost.
This loving gift from God's own hands
shall show love in merciful lands.
All is not lost oh grieving soul, for
thou shalt know before this day is done,
the reuniting of this rose now whole and one.

Peace be unto the land she dwelt,
and good mercy she sends in wealth.
Blessings be upon thee and thine,
traveling both yours and mine.
In her life twas the rose fair sweet
and she filled our lives joy profound
but need she be far past this world
To another family up above that has
past her.

We shall see her, this rose, again,
on the day the Lord saves us
and she shall smile no sores known
For though a mortal heart she hath,
a new immortal one guides her path.

Hearken to her oh those, her children
for she is not dea but living...
© Copyright 2006 Ash Night (ashnight at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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