Home Up

Some Poetry from

Small Title

The Red Rose

The last star twinkled
Fading into the night
A solitary sentinel
Waiting for the first dawn light
The last petal fell
The darkness had grown
Those it had touched
Felt suddenly alone
But the rose was a power
That reached into your heart
Its a lingering perfume
That won't depart
Its colour is blood
And blood is the tie
But the bonds are a blessing
That none would deny
A rose bud is hope
Its promise is life
but its petals are closed
its secrets bound tight
A rose is a bush
a vine and a tree
its a climber, a rambler
a wanderer free
Its proper and perfect
a civilised plant
its pagan and passion
the heart of the dance
Its thorns are a weapon
that scratched very few
its thorns were a shield
a gift from you
The stars have stopped twinkling
the dawn has arrived
but the rose and its perfume
are a gift that survive

by Kathryn Griffin

dedicated to Gregory Joseph O'Halloran (18 apr 32-20 jan 99)

Home Up Next

Back to Top

Copyright  2005 Elusive Dreams Mud. All rights reserved.
For comments or questions, email Klah.
Last updated: May 25, 2005.