The Blood Red Rose Poem by John F. McCullagh

A solitary rose,
it could not understand
why it was deprived of life
by the cultivator's hand.

A solitary rose,
clutched in a mourner's fingers
waits the presenting of the flag
as the last note of "Taps" still lingers

A solitary Rose,
it could not understand
why its life was at the mercy
of the passing of this man.

A solitary Rose
wise beyond its time
is accepting of its fate
as the mourners stand in line

A solitary rose
flung upon a box of wood.
feels the sun a final time
as it is covered up for good.

Our ancestors made sacrifice
to expiate their sin.
The blood red rose, symbolic
of what flows beneath our skin.