And now, I go, to that other world.
When I beheld the stone of Kathleen Anne Easton, I saw the “rose” on the black horse. This is ‘The Fifth Rose’.
“My love is like a red red rose”
Then I noticed someone had fashioned a tail out of what looks like heather. Am I correct? Katie was nineteen? That is a Celtic Cross.
The Rose Horse
The old woman of Bonchurch
gather heather to make your tail
a bosen to sweep her tears away
for a mother comes wearing a veil
to place a red rose at your feet
Her young daughter rides the
black, black horse
that has a rose in its name
Death has come too early
and removed her temptations
to kiss the man, then, his child
she loves, she loved
No joy was born from her womb
No mother should survive their daughter
A sacred chain has been broken
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