Atop The Marble Lays A Yellow Rose Poem by Sandi Alford

You’ll find me here by weathered stone,
all by myself with grief, alone-
Another year has come and went
with season’s change and heart’s lament.

Dried, withered buds are resting there
atop the marble, cold and hewn-
With heart prints, oh so hard to bear
of whispered echoes in commune.

I hear the bugles piercing loud-
Their melodies drown out the cries
of family grieving in the crowd
when “Taps” plays to October skies.

Dimensions seemed to mix and slip
when seven guns had fired then-
With each new volley loosing grip,
reality- to face again.

These haunting spectres leave me chilled,
devoid of warmth, completely stilled-
Upon your grave for love’s repose
I placed a single, yellow rose.


©October 2004