Once upon a time long ago, a rose tree
Grew lustily in my Ma's bed, tended
And fed, how it bloomed, and it's red, when seen
Would colour her soul - - fragranced and blended
With the Plain's western light, it shone. Her lover
Planted the tree, wanting to show her his
Pioneer heart, he chose this rose above
Any sweet scented other, and, mission
Accomplished he went to sea, but asked Ma
To talk to that flower once he had gone. Shyly
She told it how lonely she felt, and seeing
The rose thriving she decided to try
Helping her unborn to benefit too.
So daily she severed one fragile petal
And crushed it over the place where viewing
Was hidden by delicate skin, settled
With ritual, I safely arrived. Rose
I was named. When war took my Pa ere long
Both baby and rosebush fell sick. Panic close,
Ma plucked the last petal and held it among
Tiny fingers until they lost sickly hue
And blue became pink. Rose rallied soon
And that petal remained ever fresh too.
More than that, overnight the rose tree bloomed
And never was time when flower was gone
From that rose bush, and the legend lived on.
The tale of the Pioneer Rose just grew
Most homesteaders now believe it was true
Fay Slimm
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-pioneering-rose/
