The Black Rose**
I moved in with my aging dad
I said the garden needs attention
He said do what you want
BUT don’t kill the black rose.
In the front of my yard
Under the window of my bedroom
Thrives an old black rose
Inherited from my Grandmother.
The rose has a history once living with Grandmother
Enjoyed life in her beautifully expansive garden
But mother sold Grandmother’s house
Dad rescued and planted it where it is.
Each year in July I prune it
Cut it back, feed it, speak kindly to it
It responses with magnificent blooms
Rich deep reds giving the black appearance.
It gives off the luxurious scent
Of rose water, of Turkish delight
The flowers are beautiful
I swim in the aroma.
When my dad died it responded
A beautiful bloom on his funeral day
The perfect shape it lingered
In its magnificence just for him.
** The Black Rose as such does not exist in nature but rather it is the deep reds that have given it this name……when I photograph mine it always appears much more red than in nature as its always a deep velvet red…..