Christmas is so hard for those who miss a loved one. An empty chair that breaks even the strongest heart.
A Christmas Rose.
Starkly beautiful she shines
A single bloom of sugared splines
Pink petals on a bare slim stem
Ice burnt leaves beneath her hem.
Emily my own Christmas rose.
A love that lies in pale repose
Blushing red on painted lips
White cheeks a blush of petal tips
And so I steal on Christmas Morn
To brave the harsh sting and the thorn
To steal her beauty one more time
And ask fair Emily to be mine
Enchanted by beauty bleak and bare
I grasped too hard and took no care
In greed to cage her perfect form
I pierced her heart with cruelest thorn
A foolish heart to no longer sing
Silenced by both thorn and the sting
The perfect christmas rose I crave
To lay it on my sweet Emily’s grave.
On the rosewood and the polished brass
A fragile bloom in a slender vase
And down then my darling Emily goes
A flower out of time my Christmas rose
© Dave Kavanagh @ daithiocaomanaigh.com