GLENN ALLEN NOLEN
ALLEN NOLEN ALL RIGHTS
RESERVED
In a village high in the mountains of South America
Lives the legend of the rose.
This legend is a tale centuries old.
It begins with love by a man for a woman, and the road she chose.
The villagers speak of a young man who appeared
Out of the blue one-day with a rose.
He traversed higher up the mountain.
For what purpose, no one really knows.
His return a week later caused quite a commotion.
The villagers had never seen anyone with that much emotion:
"My name is Juan Antonio De La Madrid."
He proclaimed in a whisper:
"Please get word to my mother and sister."
Only a few heard him speak.
About the dream he had lived earlier that week:
"An angel appeared before me. As I planted my crop,
Then the angel commanded me to stop."
By this time his voice was so low,
That only the old woman tending him heard him say, No!
Hours went by while he did not speak.
And then a young woman from his village fell at his feet.
She wept, and then she listened. As he continued to talk
Speaking of flowers that bloomed on his long journey’s walk.
She listened contently not allowing another sole at his side.
During the night, he suddenly died.
That young woman who witnessed his death
Remained in the village and never left.
One afternoon ten years later,
She smiled and journeyed up the mountain to the top of its crater.
No one knew why she had stayed.
For she refused to talk of the legend he made.
She made that journey every ten years
Speaking only of flowers that magically appeared.
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Most of the villager's asked where she journeyed on that day.
"I must wait," was the only answer she gave.
As the woman became older
Everyone thought the legend was over.
She died one night while waiting for a decade to pass,
But Lo and behold! The legend did last.
The oldest woman in the village was present for her death.
All she would say was that: "I am blessed."
It seems the young man was granted a dream.
From the angel that appeared before him without being seen.
He told of flowers that suddenly bloomed
Speaking to him that wonderful afternoon.
Then a rose blossomed at his feet,
And he marveled at how the angel chose to speak.
The oldest woman in the village kept the legend alive
Revealing the story of the angel foretelling his demise.
The angel granted him a tribute to the woman he loved,
And that young woman definitely was.
The legend continues to be told.
For it is guarded even better than gold.
It passes from oldest woman to oldest woman at the time of a death.
Rumor has them saying:” Go to where the sun
Never rests.
Stay on the path and you shall see a tribute of wonder.
It should last for an eternity."
It is said to be the most beautiful rose in the world.
Adorned with floral arrangements that go on forever
Honoring his girl.
For some this legend is only a myth.
Others say it is visible every ten years as his gift.
Wait before you decide.
Talk to the oldest woman of your village.
She just might know if a rose can hide.
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