Author’s note:  As I have a feeling that at least one of the other people who gave me roses that night will read this, I must say:  please, don’t be offended.  I love you too; don’t take all of my comparisons personally.  (Obviously, unless you’re Bethany.)  I know that flowers die… it’s a fact of nature.  I just found this observation of that one rose almost uncannily… meaningful.

Dedication:  To Bethany

The Rose

One special day, my friend gave me a rose.

The special night we had spent on stage.

She gave me a gift:

A single rose.

And as it stands tall,

I am reminded of Bethany,

My best friend,

Whom I will love

Until the end of time.

I will never forget that night.

The lights, the crowd,

The flutter in my stomach, the smile

That played on my lips each moment,

Each word I said,

Each line that was spoken.

I was in my element;

The stage.

That was weeks ago

When she gave me that gift.

A single rose.

I was given over three dozen roses that night.

They were beautiful,

Though many similar,

Each unique.

No one stood out among the others;

They were, every one of them, beautiful.

The full vases blended

Into a magnificent portrait,

That filled the room with delicious fragrance.

Each tall,

Each perfect,

Each exquisite.

A corner of brightness,

Expanded by the mirror,

Illumined by the sun.

But the night died,

And the roses with it.

Now they sit on the white dresser,

Hovering above untidy drawers.

Still clinging to their color,

But fading, faded.

Only a shadow of what they were.

Their heads bowed,

Their time is done.

Their leaves are brittle,

Their petals falling silently,

Settling on jewelry boxes,

Mingling among strewn earrings and hair bands,

Pins and dull pencils.

Reminiscent of that special night.

All but one.

One still holds her head high.

One is still vibrant,

Though her leaves have long since

Faded with the rest.

One’s petals have unfolded

But not fallen.

And still, there are magnificent new layers

Unfolding every day.

A small, pink rose

That was given to me

On that special night

By my best friend.

And though on that night

I was called “Rose”

On the stage;

With the lights,

And the make-up,

And the costumes…

She will always be a Rose to me,

Stunningly beautiful,

Lasting,

And precious.

Just like her rose.