Jailhouse Rose Poem by Lance Carthen

It hangs up there on an old cold bar
Above the poor souls who have gone this far.
It never withers; it never dies.
It needs no water; it's always dry.
It's the jailhouse rose.

It hangs up there as a sign
Of better times when you were free outside.
The memories pass as does the pain
But that paper flower stays the same
It's the jailhouse rose.

If the rose could cry then tears would fall.
No one could ever count them all,
A poem for those beneath its petals
For those living behind the shameful cold metal.
It's the jailhouse rose.

If your eyes should fall upon the rose
Keep your memories of loved ones, and hold them close.
One day you'll be free, then again maybe not,
But the rose will remain, never to fall.
It's the jailhouse rose.

Dedicated to my best friend, my mother. I love you, Mom