Spurring Rose

What purple faery has come
By Nene’s own hand was made–
And shuffled in the air,
Before its shadow would fade?

It bears a single black bow,
A tie for the midnight’s love–
And wrapped in lace it danced,
To Earth from Heaven above.

No child could understand,
The passion here within–
And even now some question,
The depth of mortal sin.

For it fell so light and still,
On the mind of her who did wonder–
And kiss her ever so gently,
That she would forever ponder–

Was his erring love so untrue?
Did he really care for her–
And when she felt as if he was gone,
The rose, her mind would spur.

For the faery carried it softly,
The purple rose of fate–
And though he destroyed her,
Silently she held no ill or hate.

Instead she openly denied him,
Pushing forever away–
But always in her deep mind,
He held her everyday…