Jul 2020
Memories I forgot long ago
Mother and I frolicking through a meadow
Hands held tight together, chained
Her soul in mine, preordained
Beautiful Rose columns entwined as a whole
Barren was my sole when I jumped
through that beautiful knoll
“Why would something so beautiful be so rough”?
“When you’re that beautiful you must be tough”. She said in rebuff
“Then how will I display my love to such Rose who keeps me at bay”?
“Those who truly love such Rose knows how to portray, to keep away such unworthy prey”. She said in dismay
Young at age, yet such refined words gave my soul much to crave
Yonder I put that Rose, although there I’ll be each stage
Physically be with that Rose always you not
Paint that Rose with praise for all of days, not what you bought, or what you fought, no other gift will lift as such, naught
No other love will ever approach, nay can ever replace such love for a Rose or that of a mother
Naked is that Rose with no thorn, forlorn just as all of those, native is that Rose with no lover
Such a Rose must be protected from the worries of life that make life hectic
So let that Rose be, respect how it’s protected, your neglect may make its thorns as sharp as a knife, always stay connected
Vibrant as nature, diverse as life, different as you
Variety is a color many souls abuse, but can’t relate, taken for granted, but on the right canvas, creates the perfect madness. I’m familiar with the color, are you?
Life, as fickle as that Rose, more beautiful than those, but do not take lightly
Love, sweet as that Rose, everyone knows, or when you hold too tightly?
Keen was my mother as she patched me, pain in her eyes from what she’d seen. The growth of a son, oh so much to be done
Agony in her eyes, as strong as gasoline, sometimes life can be an arson
Alive as a being, potent as kerosene, pain is more than an action, it’s a person
Kiss she gave, as we laid. I slept in her lap, my soul wept. Not from the pain, from two souls, mother and son. I watched the Rose, I told her, “I felt your pain, I would do it again, please tell me, does that make us one...”?
Mother and I frolicking through a meadow
Hands held tight together, chained
Her soul in mine, preordained
Beautiful Rose columns entwined as a whole
Barren was my sole when I jumped
through that beautiful knoll
“Why would something so beautiful be so rough”?
“When you’re that beautiful you must be tough”. She said in rebuff
“Then how will I display my love to such Rose who keeps me at bay”?
“Those who truly love such Rose knows how to portray, to keep away such unworthy prey”. She said in dismay
Young at age, yet such refined words gave my soul much to crave
Yonder I put that Rose, although there I’ll be each stage
Physically be with that Rose always you not
Paint that Rose with praise for all of days, not what you bought, or what you fought, no other gift will lift as such, naught
No other love will ever approach, nay can ever replace such love for a Rose or that of a mother
Naked is that Rose with no thorn, forlorn just as all of those, native is that Rose with no lover
Such a Rose must be protected from the worries of life that make life hectic
So let that Rose be, respect how it’s protected, your neglect may make its thorns as sharp as a knife, always stay connected
Vibrant as nature, diverse as life, different as you
Variety is a color many souls abuse, but can’t relate, taken for granted, but on the right canvas, creates the perfect madness. I’m familiar with the color, are you?
Life, as fickle as that Rose, more beautiful than those, but do not take lightly
Love, sweet as that Rose, everyone knows, or when you hold too tightly?
Keen was my mother as she patched me, pain in her eyes from what she’d seen. The growth of a son, oh so much to be done
Agony in her eyes, as strong as gasoline, sometimes life can be an arson
Alive as a being, potent as kerosene, pain is more than an action, it’s a person
Kiss she gave, as we laid. I slept in her lap, my soul wept. Not from the pain, from two souls, mother and son. I watched the Rose, I told her, “I felt your pain, I would do it again, please tell me, does that make us one...”?
To me, the Rose is love, whether that be family, friendly, or romantic love. What does it mean to you, and can you guess the color?
