Upon her grave planted a rose
That fragrance spells when the wind blows
And when it does I always scent
The presence of her milliscent
Who fell into hot oil and froze.
Much I trust eternal repose
But not when my eyes river flows
For she lies, just her scent ascents Upon her grave.
My tears shall be forever woes
And more to grave that saw us foes
And wish her love upon me sent
As she marches up with the saints
Remembered only by what grows
Upon her grave.
I trust eternal repose. good one, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
good one liked a lot...