A Woman Called Rose

Bright and fragrant posies, a child named after roses
Dreams were never met, too delicate for the daylight closes

When a Jasmine flower blooms at night, only for the moon
Life pressed and passed you by it seems, way too soon

You may not have flourished, tamed, inhibited,
But soldiered on regardless, robotic and spirited

The Rose has thorns with layers of beauty
A hidden true nature your display was of duty

You were my first love all encompassing and fruitful
I begged and pleaded for you to be one hundred percent truthful

And then your sweet nectar turned into tar
The weight and the shame of it too heavy by far

Upon the most pure and wounded of souls
You didn’t deserve your place on Death’s scroll

As your sun set in the most cruellest of ways
The memory of my mother in my heart stays

I will remember my mother whose fragrance was masked
Because in the sunlight you should have basked

And now through me your story will unfold
It will no longer remain untold

What your legacy forward brings
Is the ability to live with a heart that sings

Finally I understand, no blame or reprimand
A woman called Rose, no longer in the shadowland.

Louise

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