January 09, 2005

My withered rose

It was more than a kiss before we had kissed,
His voice an answer to my unspoken prayer,
A flower unexpectedly blooming in winter,
A whispering longing for something I did not know was there.

He was my direction though I thought I was not lost,
His beautiful face, my guiding light above,
A flower, my gift from heaven lasting forever,
It is an emotion too often described as endless love.

When in his arms I melt into nothing,
But his touch soothing my worries away does not last,
The flower already dying,
My endless love disappearing fast.

My tears run for what seems forever,
A word depicting my lie a worthless lie.
My flower, a blood red rose
Is withering in a last goodbye.

- One comment Not publicly viewable

  1. Sweet but sad!
    You need 'him' for surprise, for care, for romance,...
    You love him for handsomeness, gentle….
    I like this poem, but the enjoyment just was stoped fairly soon.
    Because the rose withered so sudden.

    09 Jan 2005, 20:53

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