The Rose

The Rose                  October 17, 2004

As I pass by a bed full of red, red roses, 

I pick one that brings a tear to my eye. 

This rose reminds me of my Stella. 

So natural. So beautiful. So naturally beautiful. 

The sun glistens its rays down upon this rose, 

As did God's grace shine down on my beautiful lady. 

Stella's mouth was like this blooming red rose: 

So red, so vibrant, so filled with vigor 

And hope for the future. 

More than anything, perhaps, 

Is the sweet aroma emanating from the rose. 

Stella emitted a freshness which launches an image 

Of God, of the angels, of the angel she must be now. 

And now as I stand over her grave, I stare once again 

At this red, red rose, and then drop it. 

Here's one for you, baby. 

You may no longer be with me here, 

But I can still feel and taste your sweet kisses 

And feel your warmth. Your soul is still with me. 

Stella, I know that you always enjoyed roses. 

Please accept this as my token of everlasting love, 

And to rest assure that I will always be here for you. 

In my advanced years, I know I haven't long for this world, 

Yet I take comfort in realizing that I will be heading to a better place. 

Soon, Stella, we will be reunited in the Kingdom of Heaven 

In one perpetuating bed of roses.