Apr 2016
daffodils and daisies and dandelions too
all in my garden of yellow, pink, red, and blue
in the midst of the colors, a lone rose stands out
its lack of color is what all go on about
the irony of how white projects more beauty
than purple dahlias or orange orchids, you see,
i have never really understood til today
color doesnt matter, the way they always say
now that it's gone i realize my great mistake
of failing to care for it, for letting it break
in my mind 'twas just always going to be there
it was a mere flower i had just learned to bear
but something always stopped me from having it torn
from my almost perfect lawn, every sunday morn
however small a place it had in my big heart,
i am glad to have given it at least a part
special, you may truly say, this rose really was
strong, beautiful, something you can surely trust
although it's gone, it will never be forgotten
it owns the fraction of my heart i cannot mend
all in my garden of yellow, pink, red, and blue
in the midst of the colors, a lone rose stands out
its lack of color is what all go on about
the irony of how white projects more beauty
than purple dahlias or orange orchids, you see,
i have never really understood til today
color doesnt matter, the way they always say
now that it's gone i realize my great mistake
of failing to care for it, for letting it break
in my mind 'twas just always going to be there
it was a mere flower i had just learned to bear
but something always stopped me from having it torn
from my almost perfect lawn, every sunday morn
however small a place it had in my big heart,
i am glad to have given it at least a part
special, you may truly say, this rose really was
strong, beautiful, something you can surely trust
although it's gone, it will never be forgotten
it owns the fraction of my heart i cannot mend
this is a poem about the death of my 98-year-old great-grandmother. one Christmas she seemed so jolly and strong, but the next she was the exact opposite, already resting on her death bed. i did not realize she had been suffering miserably on it for years, while we, her family, had been begging God for her to stay alive. she fought her illness courageously, yet staying alive was not what she wanted. she did it for us, and i never really appreciated everything she did until she was gone. i guess she was just doing us a favor by fighting off death numerous times, because by the time she had to go, we were all ready.
