The Ghost of a Rose

[couchgrouch]

The Ghost of a RoseHer fam'ly moved to Danville in '79they came from a Texas town near the borderlineI loved her brown eyes and skin of polished bronzeso I picked her a rose near my fav'rite fishing pondand we lay out where blue Kentucky grass growsuntil the pink sunset became the ghost of a rosewell, most people just didn't care in Danvillebut Dad's heart was cold and hard as an anvilno son of his would love a girl with diff'rent skinlooking back I should've fought for my maidencos now her face is slowly fadin'like soft petals of mem'ry on the southern windbut I can't change the end of the path I choseand now in restless dreams I pick the ghost of a roseI heard she moved back to that bordertownso I fixed up a scrapyard Chevy I foundI fin'lly caught up with her on a south Texas farmshe had a man in the field and a blue-eyed child in her armsnow I try to hide it but that scar always showscos it's from thorns on the ghost of a rosewell, Dad's buried on the outskirts of Danvillemy old fishing pond is now a landfilland some nights I reminisce with a jug of red wineand with ev'ry lonely hour that passesthe cold regret I drink from my glass islike a rose pressed between the pages of timeand my heart knows any new flower that growswill always be haunted by the ghost of a rose(c)2005 Robert George

[good4somethingbum]

shameless bump.