Saturday, February 25, 2012
A Poem written in 2007
Traveling as the youngest really sucks,
And is lonely. Especially when I’m headed
To plant nurseries. I hate those places. Yet,
This time is different. I’ve never been here.
There is a sense of antiquity in the air. These
Roses feel like they are out of Hawthorne’s
Salem. The lush green and the cloudy sky
Has given this place an ancient smell. As
A child I’m thinking this is odd, interesting.
Maybe this place will be different. So I
Sniff around, knowing my nose must be
Greater than all others as one of my senses
Is mostly lost. I figure the others must all
Be greater to make up for that loss. I
Smelled her then. I looked and found her
Name was Louise Odier. She is truly old.
Yet, she is so beautiful. I am enamored.
This rose, this Louise, Miss Odier, she
Has seen so much, she communicates
To me by speaking with her scent. I
Cannot help but drink in her story.
Apparently she is from the East coast.
She is a rare kind, and people will clip
Her stems, so she grows more thorns,
I felt them, and yet she perseveres
All the more. She grows faster, becomes
More pungent. Wildness is in her, she
Is a rambler rose. She befriended me
And took me under her soft petals
When I needed it most of all. And now,
I see her today years later. It’s fall
And she is wilting. I know though,
That she will revive, not only herself in
The spring, but me as well. I will smell
Her again, and remember when she saved
Me from loneliness and comforted me
With her lovely story that I did not hear.
© T.S. Graveline
I wrote this poem years before I met the love of my life and it was after I did, that I knew this poem was about her. I had known when I had written it that it was for my future wife. I got lucky with her. Maybe this poem helped.