Melt My Heart of Stone

Melt My Heart of Stone!

When my daughter was only three,

She was as independent as can be,

On the playground she could hear me calling,

“Wait for me!  I don’t want you falling.”

But she would race toward the slide,

Even at that tender age she had pride,

“Me do it!” she would stubbornly insist,

She refused my help and would resist,

Hardheaded and independent, (just like her father).

So why should I try to help?  Why even bother?

As the years passed by, I didn’t get any wiser,

I didn’t save love and I didn’t become a miser,

I didn’t seek truth from wise men near and far,

I relied on myself to follow a distant star,

“Me do it!” I shouted to the heavens above,

“Why do I need help to learn the ways of love?”

Fair maidens passed often in the depths of night,

But their hearts were broken, sad was their plight,

I was too independent so I remained alone,

Hard-headed but sad, my heart turned to stone,

Who could open her heart and give me a chance?

Who could love enough to spark new romance?

I learned to accept help from any source I can,

I became less difficult; I became a calmer man,

With years of experience I became smarter too,

I decided not to rely on me; I wanted to depend on you,

Working and playing together as a team,

We could turn my world into a better dream,

Man was not meant to be alone,

“Help me please; melt my heart of stone!”

One Lonely Rose

One Lonely Rose

One lonely rose greeted me,

I didn’t know why she left our home,

Beneath my window this morn,

It was not logical to be in the world alone,

She tugged her petals closer,

She always forgot to bring her coat and mitts,

While shivering in the storm,

If she needed warmth she wouldn’t admit it,

Her head drooped slightly,

I could tell she was tired and ill,

As she leaned into the rain,

I knew she struggled paying bills,

Against the winds, the mighty winds,

But she had to prove she had the will,

She was determined to remain,

She made it clear I was unneeded still,

Expecting the worst when all had ceased,

Surely after months my love she would lack,

I hesitated before I glanced outside,

Her world must be out of whack!

The delicate rose remained there still,

She did not want me to bring her back,

Bursting with fragrant pride,

Her pride will be her downfall,

I admired her courage as she stood alone,

She had heard freedom’s call,

Smiling as she stood sentinel tall,

She had no intention of giving in, none at all,

Knowing the other roses were gone,

Even to lose love she chose not to bend,

She waited bravely to face the first snowfall.

She would be independent until the end.

Sometimes in poetry the story is between the lines.