The Five Roses

My granddad's two granny's were called Rose, as was his mother, sister and his wife. I wrote this for his 90th birthday

As winter began to take hold

He sat by the fire and a story he told

Of five roses full of beauty and grace

That in his heart held a special place

 

The first was a yellow rose that grew

With petals that sparkled all the year through

 It brought joy and delight to the heart

But sadly all too soon the rose had depart

 

And then came an unusal sight

A peach rose began to grow in the moon light

 It was always extremely strong and steady

And it petals did not fall until it was ready

 

Soon a beautiful rose appeared

And its white petals were deeply revered

 It was so pure and heavenly sent

That the skies wept when it untimely went

 

 A pink rose then gracefully arrived

With gentle determination it thrived

It held strong and proud for all to see

Beautifully admired it would always be

 

Then came a rose the most magical of all

Its beauty & wisdom could easily enthral

Red petals of courage and love

A wondrous blessing sent from above

 

With words of fondness he would tell

 Of their beautiful colours and wonderful smells

With words spoken from his heart

Our memories of the depart roses will now never.

Reviews

[Chris Sladic]

This is a really nice story with delicate, evocative imagery.

[Briege Havern]

Thanks Chris

[MomzillaNC]

This is beautiful in place and has a moving tale to impart. But, it needs some grammatical editing; the errors are a bit jarring.

[Briege Havern]

Thanks MomzillaNC and I know my grammar can be awful at times.

[MomzillaNC]

My first drafts are usually like that. It's the ephemeral rush of inspiration, needing to get the words out, pen the emotions before they're lost.