Gran's Wisdom

Gran’s Wisdom

A flower sweet my lover gave to me
To tell me of his love and ask my heart.
I begged him wait until my heart was sure;
Then ran to ask my Gran for her advice.

I knelt beside her bedside and I asked
Her blessings for the match I thought to make
I showed the flower sweet, but felt a prick.
A drip of reddest blood showed on my thumb.

‘Tis but a tiny prick, I told my Gran,
Who looked as if she’d seen a frightful sight.
A sign of woe she said, thou must not wed.
And though I begged forebearance, she held firm.

Be still, my child, she said and told her tale
Of how her love had given her a rose.
She held the rose and showed it to her Mom
And as she did, she felt a tiny prick.

Her mother warned her of impending doom,
But she’d have none of that and wed the man.
For fifty years, she lived with him and found
Her mother’s words were wiser than she’d known.

“But, Gran,” I asked her with a puzzled frown,
“You married Gramps for love, and stayed for life.”
I questioned why this tale should make me doubt
The wisdom of my marriage to my love.

She sighed and beckoned me lean close to her
And in a tiny whisper in my ear,
“We married, yes, and loved each other dear,
But, oh my god, he had a tiny prick.”


Written for Day 1 of an old contest in blank verse with an image prompt of a rose. Won First Place.