The Rose - revised

Occassionally I like to dust off some of my old poetry and re-work it, keeping what I liked and changing what no longer worked....

The Rose
A lonely stone upon a hill
Dark with night as time stands still.
A saddened place in time and space
The final end to a great race.
See the mist around the ledge,
It hovers like a ghostly hedge,
Upon the ledge there lies in pose
A lonely single bloood red rose.
They weep to see the stone like fire
In the night, a darkened pyre.
It speaks of fear, the end, and grief
Only in final rest is there relief.
The only life to linger here
Is the one thing that sooths the fear,
Upon the ledge there lies in pose
That single lonely blood red rose.
It speaks of life and hope and love,
Lifts us up on wings of doves.
Reminds us all that life abounds
Even on the coldest grounds.
A fragile gift of deepest red
To adorn this lasting bed.
Look and you will see the glow
Of the single lonely blood red rose.