Our Faded Roses

Scanning the cemetery, my eyes did focus upon
our Stone of Roses; so fair and so fair. Running my hands upon the Rose reliefs, tears of
forgotten years, came remorsefully down my
sorrowful cheeks. A Stone of Roses, given to Our Father and Mother,
is all that remains of lives so dear, and now so glad! Thinking often of these trips to that place of quiet abode,
I realize the Stone of Roses, is now so blessed. In Rose reliefs, I see something so pleasing among
the broken chips; a thought, a memory, and many dreams. Dreams, thoughts, and memories, I imagine now in these
moments, another Place of Roses. Remorse not! I urge myself!
Sorrow no more! I still demand! The Stone of Roses is sometimes just the heart!
The Place of Roses is just a brand new start.

by Richard L. Merila

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