Sunday, 16 June 2013

A Poem a Day (28): She sits beside the rose

I've been watching Vikings, so that may have inspired this one! :)
Cheers & happy Sunday to ya!

She sits beside the rose

She sits beside the rose that grows
In the hereafter
A smell so sickly sweet
Red like blood, it mixes courage
In the thorns that cut so deep;
Rested in this decaying place
The burial of the aged,
Blessed in the past they roamed
Once beneath the bowing trees

Where birdsong once laughed,
Clear waters rippling by,
The thorn breaks the skin,
Ejects a drop of blood red here;
Awakening the morning
Darkness slinks and ebbs away,
Striking a path through the light
Where no one treads so still
So slight, she listens to the ages

As the rose petals sink to the ground
Drifting out upon the wind,
It speaks softly through the trees,
Rustling the leaves, twisting,
Like open hands they hover softly
Where she stands
Sightless and watching,
Hearing the wail of the often tide
Dancing in the shadows held aloft

The thorn rents the curtain in two,
So it falls
Slowly, like the dusting of a wave
Brilliant on the back of the butterfly;
It shimmers there
Soundless, crawling in between
The walls of time, so silencing;
It does not pretend to weep
As the petals descend into blood

Copyright Vickie Johnstone

1 comment:

  1. Perhaps once you participated in the War of the Roses. I prolly did too.
    I count the colors in my garden every day and count myself lucky too. On'ya.


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