there were roses in her garden...
pale pink roses as full and heavy as
heads of cabbage in july...
she would walk the length of its
cobbled path with a secret smile
that held memories, and promises,
and dreams that all came true....
it was as if these roses were messengers
from a place where he had gone, and
she would one day follow...
as her open hand graced the head of
each bloom with the tenderness of a
mother's hand on her infant's cheek,
her wedding rings, now loose upon her
slender fingers...gave off a sound that
reminded us of distant sleigh bells from
a time when she was a girl and horses
stood tethered to hitching posts beyond the
garden gate...
she is remembering...the scent of
cabbage roses, summer evenings full
of lace, fireflies on the lawn,
and the sound of his voice asking
her to dance....
No comments:
Post a Comment