The White Rose
"Here she rests- my beautiful white rose-
on her white bed of satin- in repose."
_by Poet
I picked a pure white rose from the bouquet
beside her coffin that September morn.
Its velvet petals, soft and smooth, portrayed
the silkiness that her dear face retained
asleep at peace for all eternity.
Its petals, flared in full array, framed by
the vibrant, verdant leaves surrounding them;
all bonded by a straight and sturdy stem
which I held up with numb and trembling hands-
to press against my broken, aching heart.
Oh, dear white rose, your lovely purity-
so mirrored that pure love- Mom shared with me.
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