I met a girl...

...She is my Rose.

More beautiful than,

My poetry and prose.                                      

 

I do not think-

I can ever Find,

A poem to compare to

This flower I once called mine

 

The flower's roots

Grew deep in my heart,

Filling it completely

From the start.

 

The warmth generated...

Spilled into my soul

I found I loved her-

And her beauty I extolled!

 

With my Rose I talked-

And played in the Sun.

Waiting for night

Savoring the fun!

 

Under the stars,

Her pedals shone brightly-

Her leaves I touched-

Ever so slightly.

 

For a gentle touch,

Is all I can give.

Hoping to show,

That My love still lives!

 

I went to my Rose-

And saw her every day.

Each night I had to leave...

But I yearned to sit and stay!

 

Then one day,

The time had come-

When all I had were memories,

Of all the things we'd done.

 

What I wanted...

Was not a painful goodbye,

I wanted to see her-

And be by her side!

 

Unstoppable forces,

Pulled me away!

But in my heart...

Her roots had stayed.

 

All I could do,

Was to hope and to pray...

That she would think of me-

With each passing day.

 

Each memory would tell her-

How I loved her so!

How much I missed how!

How I longed to tell her so!

 

The days passed quickly-

As long as I looked ahead,

To a time we'd not be apart,

But together instead.

 

I want her to know...

That she is My Rose

And she is more beautiful...

Than my poetry and prose