A Memory Of Rose

We worked together, Rose, one year,
Inside our golden factory.
Quality Control was my job, dear,
While yours was making quality.

Fast and efficient, you, like flame,
Intent, with hands that flew,
Each thing you touched came out the same,
In perfect alignment true.

My job was a little boring, yes,
Except when I watched you play
With levers that did lift and press
Your competence home to stay.

A thing was done; you’d pause and smile;
Your metal pyramid shone!
I’d come and check, stand for a while,
Inside your working zone.

And then I’d turn and give a wink,
Say, “All’s perfect as can be.”
The way you’d almost nod, I think,
Means now even more to me.

The day they closed our factory—
No notice, just like that!
We’d barely time to say goodbye,
Then you were gone, like that!

My Rose, I still remember, dear,
Your hands that flew like light.
I loved you for your eyes so clear
And mounting metal—right!

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