Midnight's Rose

There is a bloom that blithely blows

Upon grief’s tomb called Midnight Rose

Dearest by far its fragile form

Beams like a star through sorrow’s storm

It soothes the prick of thorny stem

With ruby-tinted diadem

As echoes from fond days asleep

Return to bloom on midnight’s deep

The air can wear the soul-sweet scent

Where flowered hours came and went

The night is filled with soundless sound

As petals strew Thought’s hallowed ground

Tears cannot wash lost smiles away

Or drown the crown of yesterday

Where oft, softly they reappear

As Midnight Roses draw them near

…and almost we can feel their touch

And presence that we miss so much

Midnight, where rambling roses nod

Cupped in the faithful hand of God

The faithful hand of God, ah this

Is where the crux of comfort IS

With love His compassion bestows

To midnight’s loneliness, a rose

Then pray that nobody forgets

The Bloom that here and now begets

Where, who knows when, its Echo blows

Across the tomb of Midnight’s Rose

© Janet Martin