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A Rose In A Field Of Weeds (Dad)

Their once stood proud and tall,
In the midst of it all,
A tall red Rose for all to see,
one red Rose in a field of weeds.

The Rose says he cannot sing,
But can you hear his voice in the breeze.
We hear his song what a lovely sound,
Hes so unique from all around.
That little song he loves to sing
It makes us dance in harmony.

I heard him say he cannot paint,
but did you see the beauty in his ink?
It makes the world a better place
to see the sky lite up his face.

He thinks too that he's not smart,
I love his advice his words like art.
He thinks we don't listen to the words we hear,
but from the Rose we hold them near.
Every word he ever said
we never let one slip from our head.

The rose said he could not write,
his words were like poetry on a warm summers night.
When the stars are bright with the moon in full glow,
his words were like music on the paper they'd flow.

We told him Rose you should be in the movies
your so cute and your ways are amusing.
Your hair so beautiful for all to see,
a radiant light flowing over a soft evening breeze.
With silver starlight from up above,
my fingers went through his hair with love.

His petals were wilting from the cold
his season was ending his stem so old
the disease it captured the heart of the rose
my daddy was dying his story was told

The weeds surround me the thistles are thick
this life has a way of going by quick
though my regrets are few and my memories are grand
I will forever miss holding my daddy's hand

We saw the dew beading down from the rose,
he was crying for the day he'd leave this abode.

He didnt want to leave,
but God needed him,
a saint of a Rose with upstanding stem.

(January 17,2006)

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