Where Roses Never Die
I remember the first roses I received.
I was going on my first official date,
and my beau brought me a beautiful
bouquet of red roses. At the time I was
so embarrassed when I had to bring them
into the house and put them in a vase
with all my siblings grinning at me.
Our relationship lasted a little longer then
the roses, but eventually they both died.
I remember the roses I picked out for
my wedding day. I insisted they be yellow
because that happened to be my
favourite colour of roses at the time.
After the wedding I put them in the freezer
where they lived in a frozen state for many
years among the steaks and rouladen.
Although I treasured them dearly I eventually
had to throw them out and they died.
I remember the single red rose my seven
month old son, with the help of his father
brought me on my very first Mothers Day.
It was one of the proudest days of my
life actually holding the title of all
titles, Mother. I had held that dream
in my heart since I was a young girl.
Time past before my son said the word Mother,
And long before he did, that rose had also died.
In the years to come I received many roses.
Red roses, yellow ones, white roses, blue,
orange roses, pink roses, rainbow roses too.
For Mothers day, wedding day, birthdays,
holidays, date days, Sundays and just for fun days.
Roses were always there from the day of marriage
until they filled my husbands grave.
Now all those roses, every single one, all gifts
of love, have died. Every last one.
The most amazing thing occurred over all
those years, although the roses died
memories of each and every one of them
live on till this day. I still see them in their
original beauty, smell their sweet scents.
If it wasn’t for those roses, would I still
remember those special days?
My eyes have taken the pictures of each rose
and filed them in my heart, where roses never die.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
12.17.2014
Contest: Roses, Roses, Roses
2nd
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