Rose, my witness of love!

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What does this flower mean to you?
She asked me a question, why, I had no clue.

It was a beauty, one that would make one gasp,
But not everyone could extent his hand to grasp.

And then I told the fact, nothing but the truth,
The blooming rose reminded me of her youth.

The velvety feel of the petals, was still on my finger,
Every time I saw it, it would stay back and linger.

The soft petals reminded me of her skin,
The softness, the touch, it would make my heart spin.

The way she smiled, she frowned and laughed,
It looked like from the rose, all thorns were barred.

The rose was in her hand, now old and dried,
But she had it still with her, even though it had died.

Years had passed between us, love and fights, all endured,
She could still make me weak kneed whenever she smiled.

The mesmerizing curve of lips, the sparkling green eyes,
In her warm and loving arms, paradise for me lies.

She still nudges me, to make me listen to her words,
And I still love seeing her smile and move her fingers like flying birds.

We’re in eighties, yet she makes my heart flutter and dance,
And she says it’s me who cast a spell and sent her into a trance.

We still walk around holding hands, or arm in arm,
She still writes her name on my widespread palm.
 
I know, we will be separated someday,
But not a breath without her, can I stay.

Take me, O Lord, before her, I pray,
It pains me how she would live, her traumatic stay.

Undoubtedly, she needs me as much as I need her,
And linked by arms, we pray to die together.

S.F.R.

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