a million roses martyred

I heard last that you were growing old.
I didn’t know you as well as I’d have liked to.

But I wish your passage to the beyond
is laced with the scent of a million roses martyred
And that your tired breath is finally dispersed into the firmament

As you meet our maker
may he anoint your rosy cheeks
with the grace of angels
and may his light shine upon
everyone that loved you dearly

May every tear shed for you
be a rainfall that quenches droughts.

I’d like to sing at your funeral
because all I have is broken thoughts
and unsaid words.
Don’t we all?

Your presence was the breath in his being
And as you meet your favorite brother
somewhere in the realms of the sky
remember to find us gazing
at the starry midnight sky

Searching for a radiant star
we will reminisce of your smile
and your exemplary life
will be passed on through generations
just like the stories you told your grandchildren
on rainy days and the smell of coffee will linger on.

Let the scent of roses remind us of all that you lived for.

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I'm writing after a year. Phew. I thought I had forgotten.

This is for my gran's sister. He loved her.