Sixty Five Roses

December 6, 2010
By theweirdworder DIAMOND, Newtown, Pennsylvania
theweirdworder DIAMOND, Newtown, Pennsylvania
65 articles 49 photos 18 comments

Favorite Quote:
We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.
-Plato


Thirteen years ago
there lived a man
who grappled for life,
as the noose of CF,
tightened around his neck
and left its rope burn.
His life a perpetual tug of war,
with blackened teeth and coughing fits as battle scars.
Each year of life gained was a pyrrhic victory.
One out of five,
and he was the sibling stuck with it.
The odds never really were in his favor.

Thirteen years ago,
the thorns of sixty five roses finally bled him dry.

Now
his presence is a candle,
fire kept burning by memories,
light dimming
more and more and more
with each passing day,
a man modified by rose-colored glasses and the sands of time.


Now
I wonder
who was the man behind the memories?
I will never know.


The author's comments:
This poem is about my uncle George who died of cystic fibrosis when I was only a few months old. Despite the short life expectancy rate at the time of his birth, he lived to be forty-three.

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