Lady of the Rose
by Jaydon Cole
Silent specter, legends old;
September breeze sweetened with
The scent of your spectral rose.
Beauty faded into death's monochrome;
Hair of wind evaporating and condensing,
Wanly tendrils streaming in ethereal cold.
What fate you hold, with the drop of your rose,
Your malevolent hand to condemn one you've chose;
Or so the legends are told.
What foolish come to test their fate
And tempt the lady of the rose;
With laughter they play their tragic game,
"See, no ghastly maiden haunts death's ground", they boast.
"And for no one will she ever drop the rose."
Until the ghastly rose should be released
And silently crash upon death's ground alone.
The game thus over they curse the stars,
And await the lady's sentence to deliver them home.
And so I come to you mistress old
And beg you lighten your burden of your rose.
Let me watch the heavens cry
As its petals burst and death unfolds.
Grant me thy favor for you have mine,
Embrace me in your phantasmic cold.
Ease my fear and kiss me softly.
Death's delightful face so enticing I behold,
As I step and grind under foot your rose.
Author's Note: Based on a popular myth told all over the US. The story varies by location, but generally it tells of the ghost of a young woman who haunts the local cemetery. She is often seen holding a rose. If she looks at you and drops the rose, then you will die in x amount of time.
Posted on 08/04/2004
Copyright © 2020 Jaydon Cole