The Rose Poem by Jeremiah Wimbrough

A rose.
A simple red rose.
It fell through the air.
Flowing through the air as if no time was passing.
As it landed on the top there was no sound.
No sound except the sounds of sadness and sorrow.
They came from those that watched.

One lone person in the crowd.
She had no tears.
She was silently praying.
Praying for the safe journey of her friend.

The casket was lowered.
And as she watched, she saw the rose.
The beauty of the rose.
She smiled.
Her friend was in a better place.