Poem -- The Rose

The Rose  

 by Hillie   second corrected version  written  in a notepad dated 13/3/95


Like old folks do when relaxing
 in the sunshine
Ones mind slots back to
earlier times
And like a film being replayed
it all takes place again.

I see myself at three years old
A flight of seventy three
years back in time
As if it were only yesterday.

A beautiful garden next door
drew me to where some roses
bright red grew close to a
chicken wire fence fronting the road.

I reached throught the wire
to claim my desire
A rose more beautiful
than them all.

The chicken mess allowed
my small hand through
and stretching as far as I
could go I managed to
break the stem of the rose
I wanted, with leaves, thorns and all.

With the rose in my fist,
I was trapped like a monkey in a snare.
Where my hand empty had
easily gone through the chicken wire
now clenched it was jammed
tight in the mesh.

With all my battling I could not free my hand.
For a long time was stuck in that position.
No one came to help me
Suddenly my Dad came in to
view  on a horse drawn trap.

I screamed for help
Daddy come here
Help me please.
Louder and louder I screamed.
But my Dad did not see me nor hear me.
The sound of my cry probably lost
in the rattle of the trap
and the clip-clop of the
of the horse's hooves  on the rough stony road.

At last when I got so tired
I could no longer hold the rose.
It fell out of my hand and
lay within the bright sunshine.
Without a fist I was free at last
I ran all the way home.
Practically next door as I remember.

That Rose I never got
has haunted me all my life.