The White Rose Of Purity

I remember when he gave me the rose;
It was white, for purity.
He pinned it on my prom dress;
For all the class to see.

We went to the prom, and danced all night;
He held me close in his arms.
He was the most wonderful guy I knew;
I fell for his boyish charms.

After the prom was over with;
I pressed the rose inside my book.
And now and then, I'd open it;
Such wonderful memories, as I looked.

In the spring, after graduation;
He was sent to Viet Nam.
We kept in touch month after month;
Writing letters, one on one.

Then one day, a letter came to me;
From the leader of his platoon.
I couldn't believe what I was reading;
I lay crying, alone in my room.

The letter said that he was a hero;
He made the supreme sacrifice.
He fought the battle for his country;
And paid for it with his life.

Many years have come and gone;
Since the day I got that news.
I married someone, and had his children;
And had to go on with life, as I choose.

Over all the years, I kept that rose;
To remember the young hero I knew.
One day I heard the "wall" was nearby;
I had to see him, something I had to do.

I traveled the miles to see the wall;
And then, I found his name.
I knelt down and said a prayer;
And laid the white rose next to him.

Now the rose of purity is where it belongs;
Not lying in a book being pressed.
It's with that wonderful hero I knew;
And those that share his eternal rest.

© Betty Hawkins 2003

(All Rights Reserved)