Though the story of The Wilted Rose concludes, the story of Grace’s pursuit of true love continues. Though her mother’s life wilted in mental illness, Grace’s adult life was just beginning. Full of hopes and dreams of love and happiness, just like her mother had decades earlier, Grace was determined to forge a brighter and healthy future for herself than her mother had lived and it starts with moving far away from the strict religion of her youth and her mother. Beverley Joy.
Book Excerpt – The Wilted Rose – Epilogue and my poem – The Rose
Looking out the small oval-shaped window, Grace watched the city of Melbourne appear through the clouds as the plane descended. She smiled to herself: a new city, a new future, far away from Brisbane. It was her eighteenth birthday, and she had not wasted a second in escaping the chaos of her childhood, leaving her family and a full-time job to pursue her first romance. She was the youngest child, yet the first to leave home. She remembered the gloomy expression on her parents’ faces as she had waved goodbye but refused to let their sadness hinder her own bold happiness. She had chosen a location far away from them, far away from their melancholy existence.
The wing flaps extended, and the aircraft dragged and slowed. The wheels touched down on the runway, and with the shudder Grace’s attention jolted back to the present moment. Fear and excitement churned in her stomach.
Once the plane had stopped, Grace followed the other passengers along the narrow aisle to the exit and stepped out into her new life. Picking up her pace along the gateway, she entered the arrivals lounge and spotted Alex amongst the waiting crowd. She ran to him and fell into his arms.
‘Welcome to Melbourne,’ Alex grinned. As they drove through Melbourne City toward Alex’s family home in Montmorency, he chattered about what he had planned for them to do over the coming weekend. Grace listened in a semi-daze, her emotions bouncing around in her mind. There was no going back. She had fallen in love with Melbourne City at the same time she had fallen in love with Alex eighteen months earlier. And here she was. Her dream had come true.
Kate Kelsen Author © All Rights Reserved
BUY a wilted rose for Christmas (The Wilted Rose eBook)
Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay
Poem – The Rose
Roses are my favourite flower. They reflect life. The perfect beauty and the potential pain, living together. The fragrant scent. The velvety feel of the petals. The visual effect of the petals gently layered across each other. It is necessary to hold the stem just right – not too tightly or you can bruise the petals and experience pain from the sharp-edged thorns. Not too lightly or the weight of the flower can cause you to drop and bruise the flower as it falls to the ground out of your control.
If we hold on to love too tightly, love can bruise our hearts. If we hold on to love too loosely, love can fall away, out of our control. Hold on to love just right so that we can experience love’s beautiful fragrance, feel its velvet emotions and see with our own eyes how love is layered into our lives by those we love. Beverley Joy.
Petals so delicate, soft and fragrant drenched in rich coloured hues of orange and yellow.
Layered and wrapped, petals holding each other, unfold to reveal a tender heart at the centre.
Easily bruised, tossed about by the wind, the sun’s heat gives energy, and the rain gives nourishment.
The rose, admired by many and considered precious, its sweet gentle fragrance is received with pleasure.
Yet cursed by some who in pure ignorance handle it carelessly, then blame it for their wound.
The rose fulfils its purpose, not wanting to be another, content to be of its own kind of flower.
The rose does not wish it was a tree, tall and strong, living long.
It simply accepts nature’s nourishment and surrenders to that which is greater than itself.
Its presence and fame never fail to display the splendour and wonder of this flower so frail.
When it’s drenched with rain, it doesn’t complain
When the sun’s heat scorches, it turns to face it.
I see how my life reflects that of a rose, I too, am easily bruised,
And feel tossed about by the winds of hardship and pain.
I’m admired by some and precious to them, my sweet, gentle nature, they receive with pleasure.
I am cursed by some and blamed for their pain, both parties feel hurt, for they misunderstand.
When life scorches and drenches my heart, I am soon revived, able to thrive.
The Rose and I both require, harsh elements to blossom into full bloom.
Beverley Joy © 2014 Simply Story Poetry. All Rights Reserved.
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