Rose From the Dust
ROSE FROM THE DUST
Sixteen sweet springs she had seen come and go,
blooming thousand flowers on her dove eyes,
touching her tender heart with the cadence
of the whispering breeze of juvenile romance.
She had found a friend in the close neighborhood,
and he turned into a lover, when she didn’t know.
On her 16th birthday they met in a secret wood,
she was in veiled rapture as he gave her a red rose.
She kissed it and tucked gently in her black hair,
as if it were a rare jewel on the crown she wore.
Returning home a sudden gust of wind blew on her,
the rose dropped down a storm drain, gone forever.
She had silently cried her broken heart out,
for with the rose she had lost her nascent love.
Dust of dream got swept into closet of memory,
for he had disappeared, gone with the wind.
Life had taken her far away on the whirlwind,
when years later to her old home she returned,
and stood by the storm drain on a windy morning,
the red rose called memory rose from the dust.
February 27, 2019
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