Red Rose; poem in four voices

May 20, 2008
By Ashley Hurst, Valdosta, GA

Red Roses

A girl who was given roses from her dad:
The last thing I remember, him doing together with me
Was celebrating my birthday, I was seventeen
He gave me eighteen red roses.
Why eighteen? I’ll never know
But that’s what made him special, the love he had to show

Florist thinking to himself:
Ahhh…these roses are gorgeous.
I wonder who the lucky girl is.
Eighteen is such an odd number too…
“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking…why eighteen roses?”

A dad who was given a rose from his daughter:
The day came too soon when we were separated
And she returned the favor when she lay
A beautiful red rose beside me
And said, “Goodbye I love you.”
For the last time in her life

A boy who bought roses for the girl:
I hope she liked the roses,
I know they mean a lot to her.
She cried the moment she saw them
But I know they were tears of joy.
At least this year eighteen will have a double meaning…
Eighteen for the roses her dad gave her,
And eighteen for each year she’s been alive

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