|
A Single
Rose
He
gave to
her a
single
rose
when they
were in
their
teens.
He said
he'd give
her many
more
if he just
had the
means.
But money
in those
days was
scarce;
with one
she was
content,
and though
her heart
was very
young,
she knew
what that
rose
meant.
When
they grew
up and
finished
school
and he
went off
to war,
he gave to
her a
single
rose;
she knew
what it
was for.
She kissed
him on the
day he
left,
said,
"I
will wait
for
you,"
and all
the years
that he
was gone
her love
for him
stayed
true.
The
war was
done and
he came
home;
he knelt
down to
propose.
She saw
the love
deep in
his eyes,
and in his
hand a
rose.
They soon
were wed
and later
on
began a
family,
and times
were tough
but they
held on,
together,
he and
she.
On
special
days he
always
found
the means
to buy a
rose,
and she
was more
than happy
with
the flower
that he
chose.
Then times
got good
and he
could buy
a dozen
buds and
more,
but only
one he
still
would
give,
just like
he'd done
before.
For
fifty
years she
kept them
all,
with care
pressed in
a book.
Sometimes
she liked
to
reminisce
and turn
the page
and look.
She knew
between
each
yellowed
page
was more
than roses
pressed,
and she
was
thankful
for the
man
with whom
she had
been
blessed.
Beside
her
casket,
crying
tears,
his grief
too much
to bear,
he laid a
rose upon
her breast
with
tender
loving
care.
"One
final
rose,"
he softly
said,
"with
love I
give to
you,
symbolic
of my very
heart
which
travels
with you
too."
Copyright
© 2003
Ruth
Gillis
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