Rivenrock Gardens Cactus Blog

The Rose
~Joe O.~

Blond, handsome, tall, blue eyes
Strong and proud in his uniformed guise
Proud to defend the “Fatherland” and Rhine
Walking back from the village
In the bright Bavarian sunshine
To his unit not far away
A smile in his heart
A girl on the path not far ahead
Standing near the old castle tower

“Guten morgen! A beautiful day.”
They speak their names, so much to say
An hour seems a minute on this day
“I must go.” he says. “Will I see you again?”
“I will be here tomorrow at ten.”
She gave him a rose from the bush nearby
They said auf wiedersehen, goodbye
They meet again, and again, and again
Giving themselves to each other in time

One day something new is on her dress
A star on her shoulder
To show her pride, they told her,
In being a Jew
A sign of unspoken foreboding, they knew.
“It does not change us.” they said.
“We will always be together.” they said.
We will meet here in secret
You will know I am here
When the rose is at the tower door
And the candle is in the window there.

They came in the night to take her away
To a place where she’d be happy, they’d say
He came the next day and there was the light
The rose was there, but the girl not in sight
He waited, and waited, and waited more
Until there was nothing but to go in the door
And the soldier was never seen again.

It is late evening, summer 1961
I walk from the village to the old castle door
I see a candle in the window above
As I get closer I meet an old man there
Tall and handsome his blue eyes show despair
“I’m waiting for her” is the first thing I hear
As he points to the castle door
I looked and a beautiful rose is there on the floor
I looked up and the candle light no longer shone
I turn to speak and the old man is gone
Was I dreaming? I rub my eyes
I turn back to the castle door
And there at the entrance sits the forlorn rose
Now clearly long dead on the floor

I have often seen a light in the tower
And I thought I heard boots on the stairs
I never saw the old man again
But always the rose is there.

    Santa Maria was originally known as ‘Central City’ due to the Central location it occupies on California’s coast. The name was eventually changed to Santa Maria because there were mail misroutings with another Central City in Colorado.
    Santa Maria has an old part of town with buildings built of brick which is generally not used for building material in this area anymore. Cruising through an alleyway behind a custom truck shop, I saw this old door, with it’s weights to help move the doors. It was such an old style and design, yet obviously functional, and made me think of how in the old days folks used ingenuity to help them accomplish tasks. It is a little snapshot of a time a hundred years ago.    My Dad used to have a cellar on their farm in the Missouri Ozarks, when he was a kid he enjoyed slamming the door of the cellar which was a ‘trap door’ style on the floor. It had a weight stack also to help one lift it since it was huge and heavy, but when slammed down would slam into the frame with much force and a terrifically (for a kid) loud slam. One day he did this not noticing the cat was sitting on the edge, with his tail over the frame. The door chopped the cat’s tail off, the cat screamed and ran off into the woods, but came back a few days later with the stub healing well. For the rest of his life that poor cat was a stub-tail, but it did not seem to affect him adversly after he healed.