A tale of Plainsfolk
A Pioneering Rose.
Once upon a time long ago,
a rose tree
Grew lustily in my Ma's bed, tended
And fed,
how it bloomed, and its red when seen
Would colour her soul
fragranced and blended
With the Plain's western light, it shone.
Her lover
Planted the tree, wanting to show his
Pioneer heart,
he chose this rose above
Any sweet scented other,
and mission
Accomplished he went to sea,
but asked Ma
To talk to that flower once he had gone.
Shyly
She told it how lonely she felt,
and seeing
The rose thriving she decided to try
Helping
her unborn to benefit too.
So daily she severed one fragile petal
And crushed it
over the place where viewing
Was hidden by delicate skin,
settled
With ritual, I safely arrived.
Rose
I was named and when war took my Pa
ere long
Both baby and rosebush fell sick
Panic close,
Ma plucked the last petal and
held it among
Tiny fingers until they lost sickly hue
And blue became pink.
Rose rallied soon
And that petal remained ever fresh too.
More than that,
overnight the rose tree bloomed
And never was time when flower was gone
From that rose bush,
while the legend lived on.
The tale of the Pioneer Rose just grew
Most homesteaders now believe it was true
How delightful, one of those lovely memorable legends that somehow people would rather keep than throw away and I don't blame them at all. Great storyline.
Wonderful story, wonderfully versed. I like the way you choose your words to rhyme so close together (ex., fed, red, and all the eds) and I think your phrasing is extraordinary and lends itself to a delightful rhythmic read.
amazing story right to my heart
What a beautiful story lies in this poem Fay - you are at your creative best here...
This wonderful poem is a beautiful and touching tale, Fay, and one very well told. Whether it is a legend or a true story, your words made this lovely write come alive in the reader's mind, and that's what fine poetry is all about. Carl.
Fantastic story...in poetic presentation...a great one..