The wild rose

The wild rose

Caged man ran from his cage, he ran to the Rhine river and he sought solitude from the noises of the city. He prayed to the river, “Please take me to the sea. Allow the weight of my useless life to be clean and for me to see, the open sea and to breathe in the salty ocean air.”

He looked to the river bank and he saw a single red rose and he went to the rose and he touched the leaves softly. He told the rose, a Indian Summer in Germany. My fainting heart is so damn tire and I need to rest. He heard a warm and gentle whisper, a voice of a angel. He looked-up and he saw a celestial beauty and he asked her. Are you real dear lady? Can we find kindness in the mess of life?

She sat down near him and she took his hands. Brought his body near her and she brought his head into her lap. She smelled of the Spring flowers and Summer freedom. He asked her. Are you my wish or my tale to be written?

  She told him,” Silence dear Johnnie. Sometime you don’t need to speak, sometime you need to know silence, sometime we need to listen. I will sing you the river lullaby my lonely soldier.

“La, la a thee. We will drink, we will dance. We will know joy, we will know sadness. We will laugh and we shall cry. We need the mystic places, the days of knowing freedom. Remembering the warm kisses, we shall never forget. The warm Summer days make us know. We will know the mischief and the chaos of living. And we must have a place to rest when we are weary. The river rose grow in late September for us dear Johnnie. A rose for us to see and appreciate.

La, la a thee. If we are alive, we can be like the river rose. Follow the river to the sea and taste the sweetness of freedom. Only locked doors are the door we padlocked with dead dreams, sleepy life. I am here and the river is singing to follow her to the great sea. For us to sing to the falling sun and be brave again.”

He looked at her and he told her. Dear Daniela, you can always find me. We have found each other many times and we are kindred spirits. We love the Rhine river, we love the American whiskey  and we seek the river roses, the free flowers. Are we running to each other or away from each other?

She smiled and she kissed his face and she whispered. Maybe we are walking together, maybe we need the same things. Maybe we know. We are like the wild roses, not afraid to seek the quiet places where love is near, hope is alive and the lover’s can show real face and speak freely. We need people with mutual dreams and hate the walls, the prison of useless life. 

He embraced her, listened to her beating heart and he told her. Thank you my wild rose.

Dancing Coyote