Red Rose

“When he dies there will be miracles”
But the candle drips time from my heart,
The shadows retreat and attack to
The wind, the wind that hides in the dark.

An emptiness stalks and surrounds me,
Tortured faces, I know, haunt my dreams,
A passion lost with a friendly kiss:
That was caught in the sun’s golden beams.

My mirror is stained with reflection,
A woman whose soul was not clear,
A whore once danced in sheets that were damp
Whose make-up was washed off with tears.

Go now softly unto the garden
Where memories are red rose in bloom,
Fragile thoughts entwined with crimson thorns;
We suffer to hold, they fade too soon.

“When he dies there will be miracles”
And we all live through death at sometime.
Where once I was lost the light found me
I know, now, the miracle was mine.


Copyright ©RMC September 2018

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