|
|
|
|
Mara and the Roses
In winter of a year now gone,
Against the stark, white snow.
There stood a gray and twisted form,
A rose that would not grow.
It cried a tear that lonely year,
That hung upon a thorn,
The only way it knew to pray
For roses to be born.
Not far away, another prayed,
The spirit filled the room.
The scent of flowers filled the air,
Roses in full bloom.
And she who prayed, this comment made,
"I feel a rose inside"
Within me I can feel it bloom,
To some she did confide.
And as the winter turned to spring,
This prophecy discloses --
A tear so dry that's blinded by
The beauty of the roses.
On August of the seventh day,
The year was marked the same,
A flower bloomed upon the Earth
And Mara is her name.
©Aunt Carol, 1977
| ©2005 by Flutterby's Home 
|
