I keep with me <br />a dying rose <br />which sleeps beside me <br />on the pillow. <br /> <br />Once alive it lies now in between <br />life and my pillow-side breathing <br />which doesn't allow it to expire <br />even though it should. <br /> <br />It fell in a swift spiral <br />from your funeral pyre <br />and I plucked it up <br />as a sign <br />you gave <br />that we'd remain <br />for ever close; <br />forever in love. <br /> <br />On the first night <br />it quivered from my breath <br />and I breathed more <br />and seemingly <br />that rose contained your soul <br />and was inspired nightly <br />to new life <br />from my warm expirations. <br /> <br />They all think <br />I am grief-drowned <br />and will recover soon <br />but no <br />they don't understand. <br /> <br />It is not the rose I keep <br />but the soul <br />within that sleeps <br />beside me <br />each night since. <br /> <br />If spirits live, <br />and I am sure yours does, <br />mine reaches yours <br />in our sleeping rose. <br /> <br />Nineteen <br />its clear <br />was too soon <br />for you to go; <br /> <br />rather you take <br />refuge with me <br />each night <br />disguised as rose <br />until it truly comes time <br />for you to go. <br /> <br />I pray each night <br />hoping that <br />it is not too soon <br />but when the time comes <br />there will be a flight <br />of two souls; <br />both rising quietly <br />in our sleep.<br /><br />Lonnie Hicks<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/roses-rising/
