Among The Roses
Among the roses an old woman lay
Reclined in her chair, weathered and frail
Her wispy, thin fingers trembling lightly
As she reached past her armrest to stroke a lone bud
Nearly bound to the chair, she took the sun in
And lay there while it arced its way over.
How much she appreciated reclining in her garden,
For she no longer moved as she had long before
When she did feel well enough to lay with the roses
She made sure the moment did not slip away
And she let the peace rise and engulf her whole body
Burdened by nothing, just admiring the flowers sway.
But there sulked in the background one person besides her
Among the pure roses, but not truly perceiving
While the first one grew tired and sought comfort in rest,
The second one wished to be constantly moving
Much stronger she was, more able, more bustling
Excited by youth to branch out and discover
Yet when the time came to sit down and reflect,
The restlessness lurked, and her boredom grew.
“Adventure is needed to provide stimulation,
How else would I grow?” she pleaded and crooned
She had no greater fear than to stop and lose passion
The force that so far had made her life bloom
But when she lay with the wise one, looked behind her grey eyes,
A twinkle appeared that she recognized clearly.
She followed the gaze and look for what caused it
And there were those roses, perfect in their simplicity.
She finally paused, her eyes wide at the splendor–
There was no ennui, no more dullness in sight!
Instead she saw with clarity, the unity and the beauty
That had enveloped the roses till they had reached maturity
So she traded anxiety for a place besides grandma,
Stretched out towards the sun and dug her toes in
And among the roses together they lay,
Permitting the keen flowers to count the seconds in their place.
