On the days that we were born;
Our Daddie brought us roses.
It was the first time the sweet smell;
Had ever reached our noses.
When I was five, big sis and I;
We tried to plant a garden;
But something didn’t turn out right;
The soil seemed to harden.
When I was nine, with Mama’s hands;
We braved the task once more;
This time we grew three bushes;
Much better than before.
When winter came our beauties died;
The snow had stole them all away;
“Even God needs rose,”
That’s what Mama used to say.
Now I’ve grown older and grown wise.
I see what Mama meant,
Our roses came to bring us joy;
To God is where they went.
I wonder where he put them;
Among His angel’s wings and such;
Wherever, I am certain;
He loved each one very much.
When big sis passed on;
I recalled my Mama’s words;
This I came to understand;
From what I once had heard.
We dried our eyes and felt our pain;
Abandoned all our woes;
For among God’s jagged crown of thorns;
There now will sit a rose.
June 30, 1995
