A Rose By A Creek.

She comes
From a dancer's dream.
From a cantina
Mixing it up
With all of those woeful tears.

Soon a red rose
Grows from a nearby creek.
A canyon wide
So surprised
By the hungry hunt
For the unseen.
Only two of us
To find  
The real scene.

We met when we were so young
At an old wooden house
Where art is for sale.
Made of different array of styles
All on our own
She claims that she is always alone.

When the nights
Turn into days
My own mind then fades away.
By the hurtful sounds of her own life's callings
She becomes a rose by a creek.

Rock and Roll
Is like her shelter
For acceptance so kind
The era that shines so brightly
From the past.

So obsessed
By the melodic sounds that she has heard and spoke
Of wild adventures and tall tales
Cold as stone
In a world that is built all on it's own.

When her hands start to look wrinkled and grey
Her eyes seek solstice in Rock and Roll's arms.
A warm comfort that once was so comforting
Now that it is gone as she has wanted more.

Her own family worries in time
When her life
Goes up and down
A memory that never fades
She's a rose by a creek.

And her face
That once shine on in grace
Will never fade
As she is a rose
By a rose by a creek.