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Death Rose Poems | Death Poems About Rose

These Death Rose poems are examples of Death poems about Rose. These are the best examples of Death Rose poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Personification | |


.                                              She sleeps in her rose wood bed,
                                                  under a blanket of velvet red;
                                                   old and alone and forgotten,
                                           she dreams of the love she once had.
                                              Once again she recalls his caress
                                                      on the curve of her hips
                                                                and her breast
                                                         as he moved his bow
                                                      on the strings of her soul,
                                                             playing her sound
                                                    'til his passion was spent.
                                           They traveled the whole world over,
                                                      to every city and town;
                                              the maestro, his bow and violin,
                                                 bringing each curtain down.
                                               He died in a cry of sweet refrain,
                                               clutching her strings to his heart; 
                                            as he fell to the floor in a final encore,
                                                       tearing her world apart.
                                           So she sleeps in her rose wood bed,
                                                  under a blanket of velvet red;
                                                         her strings still filled 
                                                    with the song of her soul,
                                                        etched by the maestro
                                                               that loved her
                                                               so long ago!


                                                          Author:  Elaine George

Copyright © Elaine George

Details | Quatrain | |

Where The White Rose Blooms

The single white rose captured the old gardener's attention,
He lovingly cared for it, like it was his own grand-daughter,
The roses were just like family and friends in his eyes,
He gave them bright sunshine, and plenty of fresh water.

He had always planted roses in reds, yellows, and pinks,
Yet, it was the one white rose that he favored most,
The old gardener admired it's innocence and elegance,
A quality that the other roses just could not boast.

This precious rose was pure white, like new fallen snow,
Which only a cold, late November day could bring,
It's delicate petals were soft to the finger's touch,
Similar to that of a feather, in an angel's wing.

The old gardener was perplexed and astonished,
Only this rose bloomed through spring, summer, and fall,
Each of the other roses had withered months ago,
The frost and cold weather did not affect it at all.

With a smile, the old gardener took one last look,
Unknowingly, death would soon come without warning,
After he had settled down for a nap in his chair,
He drew his last breath, later on that morning.

His funeral was held on the very next day,
Loving words were spoken, as he was laid to rest,
His grand-daughter approached, with tears in her eyes,
As she placed the single white rose upon his chest.

The cemetery was a quiet and peaceful place,
Where family and friends gathered to remember,
A gentle snow began to fall upon the casket lid,
Brightening the gloom on this final day of November.

The old gardener's soul departed from this earth,
Lead away by a choir of angels, on delicate wings,
Then on through the pearly gates of heaven's garden,
Where the white rose still blooms, in eternal springs.

November 25th, 2013

Written by: Kelly Deschler

Copyright © Kelly Deschler

Details | Personification | |

The Essence of Rose

In the twilight hours Out here on this ledge I am filled With the essence of Rose As a gentle breath stirs The fallen petals Strewn over That long and winding road Here on the brink Where so many have come Before me And simply let go I find myself wondering Why I am here Yet! I am afraid to know So I cling to this ledge Overcome with fear Knowing the end is near For there's no going back Once you are here for that moment In Time Disappeared So... I sit here Filled up With the essence of Rose Each petal A memory Etched forever On that road of life Paved with both Joy and misery Until the last petal falls Then I finally let go Here at the end of the road I, the last tear From the faded blue eye Of dear Old wild Rose Written: July 15, 2015 Author: Elaine Cecelia George, of Canada

Copyright © Elaine George

Details | Rhyme | |

How A Blue Rose Came to Be

Once upon a time, many years ago,
There was a sweet and lovely -  red, red Irish rose,
That was plucked prematurely, from the garden vine;
A budding beauty, taken in her prime.

She was laid to rest, upon the death, of a lovers dream;
Upon a chest of ebony, where lie, his would-be  Queen; 
Lowered deep into the depths, of the church yard cemetery;
Her scarlet petals, wilting in the summer breeze.

Then the earth begin to fall, like autumn leaves;
Upon  her petals, and the chest of ebony,
From above her tomb, where stood the grieving groom
Weeping , weeping,  like a willow tree.

Then the sky begin  to disappear, amid that mournful cry,
As  tears - from above, fell from that lovers eyes,
And came to rest, like dew drops on that  Irish rose, 
As she disappeared beneath the earth, 
There in his grief below.                                      
In time, he laid a stone of ivory - upon her grave;
Etched deeply  - with the promise he had made:
To love his Irish Rose - forever and a day.

The years and all their seasons came and went,
And a million lonely tears were cried and spent,
Upon her grave where everyday he knelt and prayed,
And dreamed of her until his dying day.  

The epigram has long since faded on the ivory stone,   
That still stands alone  upon her grave,
Where from the million tears of love he gave,
A seemingly impossible - blue, blue rose has grown.

 Written:  June 18, 2010
Author:  Elaine Cecelia George, of Canada

Copyright © Elaine George

Details | Sonnet | |

The Rose and the Thorn

I shall nay know all the wonders - you hold
For all too soon the winds of winter blow
Scarlet petals withering in the snow
How cruel the breath that kills the velvet rose 

Tears - that canst’ bear the thought of letting go
Forever frozen in this empty soul
A broken heart forever turned to stone
A broken stem left now to stand alone

Alas! I find that life is bitter-sweet
As I stand holding only memories
Of a rose blooming in the summer breeze
Here beneath this old weeping willow tree

Once I held the sweetest rose - ever born
Now – in my grief – I hold the bitter thorn.


                    Author:  Elaine George

Copyright © Elaine George

Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Red Roses Fade To Black

Red velvet petals, only I, seduce,
With hidden danger under the disguise,
My fingers feeling shyly, I reduce,
Thorns sharpen, ready, waiting the unwise.

Before me, bleeding poison, I assume,
This flower withered, shriveled the entire,
A dark extracted substance, the perfume,
No beauty, only sorrow, I admire.

Withdrawn I wept lamenting the depart,
A rosebud, crimson, youthful, I erased,
A lifeless flower, never I impart,
nor taken with affection, I embraced.

Written by Kelly Deschler  October 23rd, 2014

Copyright © Kelly Deschler

Details | Narrative | |

How a Blue Rose Came to be

Once upon a time, many years ago,
There was a sweet and lovely -  red, red Irish rose,
That was plucked prematurely, from the garden vine;
A budding beauty, taken in her prime.

She was laid to rest, upon the death, of a lovers dream;
Upon a chest of ebony, where lie, his would-be  Queen; 
Lowered deep into the depths, of the church yard cemetery;
Her scarlet petals, wilting in the summer breeze.

Then the earth begin to fall, like autumn leaves;
Upon  her petals, and the chest of ebony,
From above her tomb, where stood the grieving groom
Weeping , weeping,  like a willow tree.

Then the sky begin  to disappear, amid that mournful cry,
As  tears - from above, fell from that lovers eyes,
And came to rest, like dew drops on that  Irish rose, 
As she disappeared beneath the earth, there in his grief below 
In time, he laid a stone of ivory - upon her grave;
Etched deeply  - with the promise he had made:
To love his Irish Rose - forever and a day.


The years and all their seasons came and went
And a million lonely tears were cried and spent
Upon her grave where everyday he kneeled and prayed
And dreamed of her until his dying day.  


The epigram has long since faded on the ivory stone   
That still stands alone   upon her grave
Where from the million tears of love he gave
A seemingly impossible - blue, blue rose has grown.

 Written:  June 18, 2010

Note:  To late for the contest,
but I thought I would post it anyway. 

Copyright © Elaine George

Details | Narrative | |

The Rose

Once bloomed a rose so young and fair
With dark brown eyes and long black hair

Beside her be a tall dark tree
Whose branches stretch to smother thee

Too close beside the shadowy bark
That soon begins to leave its mark

She cries for help, but none shall hear
Her thorns too sharp, who’d dare go near?

To save this rose, who’d risk their life?
With naught to gain but pain and strife

Alone, afraid, she lays to rest
Her heart beats low inside her chest

And with the hour growing near
She sheds her final grieving tear

And so the rose soon falls asunder
Her final day, eternal slumber

She lies beside the old dark tree
The only one who mourns for thee

Copyright © Nina Hernandez

Details | Verse | |

Holding a wilting red rose


I carried it on my lap all the way to you,
    The bus ride was so long, so long, Mom;
Lost in old memories of you and me, together, 
              I just looked out the window all the way.

                        Holding a wilting red rose ~

The gate of the cemetery creaked as usual,
     The path filled with many crumbling leaves;
Cool wind took my long raven hair blowing it back,
              I felt my tears falling as I neared your tomb.

                         Holding a wilting red rose ~

I stood for a long time with my eyes closed,
     The words carved in stone and in my heart;
Feeling the pride of a daughter for a wonderful Mom,
                I fell to my knees weeping for what is lost.

                           Holding a wilting red rose ~

Then at last I rose and dried the forever tears,
    I touched the words carved  on your cold tomb;
And retraced my steps down the path, closing the gate,
                I boarded the bus and was soon lost in thought.

                             Holding a wilting red rose ~

                                            . . . . . still

May 11, 2014



Copyright © Broken Wings

Details | Rhyme | |

Death Of A Rose

"When the rose dies it falls open, spreading perfume. You will become a window for every house. You will be a rose garden in every field."~Rumi

There were no secrets between us...
        Oh! Beauty's unveiled saline rush!
                Deception is now done.
                        Every man knows your scoring gush...
                                Fate! Has now claimed my only blush!
                                        A Harlot's life begun.

~by deborah burch©

"Rime Couee"

Copyright © Deborah Burch

Details | Rhyme | |

Why the Rose Bled

Parents so proud Four sons they raised From the Highlands of Scotland In the pre-war days On their crofts they worked Morning till night Unknown to them then Of a future fight The Germans have invaded A country so free Poland was taken The world shaken visually Britain declares war As our men enlist To rid the enemy As the fighting shifts Europe's engulfed In a feverish war Many are dying To comprehend what for The four brothers Sign up to fight As a mother will pray Every night Campaigns they fight In these theatres of war Witnessing horrors Never seen before In their garden at home On the family crofts A bed of roses With petals so soft Then one day With a passing glance A pink rose dripping red In deathly stance Their mother turns To the gate she looks Telegram in hand From the postman she took With trembling hands She opens with care Upon reading the message In tear laden stare Their eldest son In Africa was lost As many many others Deaths global cost Every day As she passes the rose It's pink petals bloom Her tomorrow's fear grows .

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Free verse | |

'God selected the perfect rose'

your voice now silent never to see you smile again you left us heartbroken unprepared shocked to silence we remember your laughter and your “I can go on attitude” never complaining just being you even when fighting this battle we'll never know why you had to leave us so soon we'll always wonder we'll always have questions God knew your journey was complete when He selected the perfect rose for His garden today--- IN LOVING MEMORY OF A FRIEND AND COLLEAGUE, MICHELLE SCHULTZ 26092011 We, at BABS miss you already

Copyright © Wilma Neels

Details | Free verse | |

in memory of a rose

your velvety blossoms
slowly withers away
once tender roots
have now decayed
at the thought i cringe
such insidious disease
gradually infects
each and every leaf

moldy black spots
crinkled stained edges
your magnificent growth
gradually suppresses
your unsurpassed beauty 
now fuzzed up and gray
crinkled debilated stems
a dull distorted array

shoots barely opened
leaves now curled and bent
such unforgettable moment
your petals soon descend
your spicy scent has drifted
such sickly brittle vein
Flowers now discolored
and left to thrive on pain

after months of nurturing
your once marvelous display
the thought of you slowly wilting
has left me in dismay

*My theme is taken from Constance's Poem "in Memory of a rose"*

Copyright © Rashana King

Details | Elegy | |

Halloween and the Yellow Rose

     The day my mother was taken from me 'Halloween'
     fifty she had just turned the golden years she so much yearned
     Left partially in a river her body broken and bruised
     hidden from sight alone on a many twilight

     Painfully I searched for days to weeks and on
     knowing a homicide had occurred in the early morning dawn

     A man in a drug induced state with no heart of grace 'Winsette' his name
     has left me with a lifelong of memory and pain
     At times in my heart for him I would wish to destroy
     all the evil thoughts for him I felt I would enjoy

     But I have learned to forgive so I could liberate my soul
     even though he now walks the streets on parole

     So on Halloween night there is no candy to give
     only a memory of a mother I have lost instead

     As I take the long walk to my mother's headstone
     I lay a single yellow rose and a sweet candy kiss upon her head.

Dedicated to: My Mother 1939-1989  Never forgotten on Halloween Night
T Reams 9/27/2015   copyright     Contest sponsored by: Nayda Ivette Negron
My Favorite Flower    Placed 1st

Copyright © TAMMY REAMS

Details | Free verse | |

The Salted Leaf

Crystal sapphirine salted leaf,
The forlorn friend of aqua rose.
Memories of ages, only the leaf knows.
Bright blue tears of eternal grief.
The wedding bands confirm our love.
Passion, ardent affection for life.
I and Lenore forever my wife,
Beautiful as a pure white dove.
The eye of the rose reflects all,
You see the past in a single glance.
The aqua rose: Lenore, did me enhance.
Away she flew, to kingdom hall.
Why? Did she die; I do not know.
Answers in the blue crystal salt,
Sapphirine leaf will sorrow halt.
I eat the leaf for status quo,
My heartbeat quickens, then a smile.
Lenore, my wife doth call me hither.
Aqua rose begins to wither.
The saga must continue.

HGarvey Daniel Esquire

Copyright © HGarvey Daniel Esquire

Details | Rhyme | |

Misguided by a Rose

Darkest, sweetest, blackest rose,
so deep and so inspired.
Your blinding beauty comforts me,
No effort is required.

I fell within your dreamy trance,
I become quite delerious.
But your black petals start to dance,
sweet rose oh so mysterious.

Rose, why must you trick the hurt,
With your wonderous deciet.
You make the exit look so right,
You guide the loste one's feet.

You taunt us thirst weak ones,
Make death look like a well.
You only wish to burn us up,
You send us straight to hell.

Copyright © Chelsea Stufleben

Details | Narrative | |

Sun Rose, She Saw Her Dead Lover's Face

Sun Rose, She Saw Her Dead Lover's Face 

The sad angel touched her heart then
turned her far away from mortal men
Setting her a course to sleep alone
in dark cavern where no light shown.

Yet she traveled in nightly dreams
to shining lands with epic streams
Upon which hardy men sailed away
making fortunes wherever they may.

Lonely travelers so far from home
missing love as they set to roam
Dreams of beautiful vixens at night
saw her appear glowing in her light.

First she could see but not speak
a silent image their heart did seek
As the sad years flew swiftly by
her words appeared telling men why.

Her punishment was for her misdeed
unfaithful lover she cut to bleed
Watch him bleed life into the dust
never again was she to ever trust.

Avenging angel sent to punish then
keep her away from all mortal men
For her beauty could sway any heart
to find her a map drawn on a chart.

Hundreds tried but nobody did win
free her from cavern of her sin
As her broken heart started to fall
she heard a brave sea captain call.

Map he had memorized just to find
image that appeared in his mind
Into a dark, lost lake he did sail
deep love swore he'd never fail.

Moon was bright when he arrived
elude her guards he had contrived
Plan to lure her dark guards away
rescue her before the break of day.

Guards were two dragons so fierce
with scales no weapon could pierce
Captain would flash powder to blind
evil eyes as in he went her to find.

All went just as was his bold plan
out the cavern he and his love ran
Soon two lovers were aboard his ship
dragon guards they managed to slip.

Sun rose, she saw dead lover's face 
as back to death his soul had to race
Captain had been her victim she bled
freed her from his dark death's bed!

R.J. Lindley
July 07, 1977

Note- Presented as is... An oldie that I barely remember my ever writing.
Was found folded in an old poetry book I had misplaced and stored in the attic.
Found that book in a box of old clothes that were about to throw away.

Copyright © Robert Lindley

Details | Free verse | |

Aqua Rose

Deep in the Caribbean coral reef;
A bright blue rose, one salted leaf.
The stem has strength of ancient gods.
The roots of time have not withered
Her petals of truth grow strong with age
Her story unfolds from a watery cage
Her stamen: the history of man.
I knew her well, Aqua, my wife.
No longer seen with mortal eye,
You don't hear her sobs: her cry
No sweet hello's, no fond good-bye.
Memories of undying love.
Floating serenely in waters blue
The hottest sunshine filtered through.
The Aqua Rose is my love true.
Her watery grave shall be redeemed.
Long before Aqua was a rose;
She was innocence, personified
She was mine and I was hers
Soon we shall share Eternity.

Copyright © HGarvey Daniel Esquire

Details | Rhyme | |

With Him goes a Rose

It was only a few days
On their barren soil
Through a doorway he went
So many lives now spoiled

An explosive device
Plastic in design
Could never be detected
Now a life resigns
The regimental medic
Rushes to his aid
To stem his internal bleeding
Through his eyes he fades

His lifeless soul lies lonely
As he is gently stretchered away
Where he will be flown back home
To where the angels play

In honoured ceremony
As he is carried to his carriage
On the tarmac awaits
His fiance, without marriage

In the chapel of rest
She stands in a tear laden pose
Her tribute to her lost one
With him goes a Rose

For tomorrow she will awake
A new day in her life
As she remembers her love
Who would have made her his wife

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Ballad | |

When I Stopped That Day To Pick Death's Rose

I heard a little rumor from
a stranger on the road today;
he wore a heavy veil of dusk
to keep the winter's song at bay.

His face was well concealed; although,
his shriveled hands had drawn my sight;
it seemed like they were withering
and, like the moon, a pallid white.

"A little further down this road,
there lies a curse'd patch of grass
obscured by trees to hide its shame;
for that, I know I am to blame.

The flow of time had left that place,
yet still the living wandered in,
until they saw that wicked plant
whose very growth was deemed a sin."

The frigid notes were ominous,
like most of what the old man said,
and quickly did his coal-coat flee
to leave but silence in his stead.

A trav'ler's prank is what I thought,
but further down the road I saw
an isolated trust of trees
with polished trunks and lively leaves.

Surveying past the tow'ring brown,
I stood in awe at Gaia's gate;
if anything, I had to know
how nature could intimidate.

The grass was like an emerald floor,
a regal rug for royalty,
and aromatic jewels stood proud
amongst the scattered shrubbery.

But then, I sensed a mournful soul
and heard a fright'ning tearful call;
at center grew a single rose,
left weeping within wooden walls.

Its petals were like chimney soot,
but had the most enchanting smell;
its stem and leaves were silver clad,
a gorgeous blossom spawned from hell.

Despite the omens I had heard,
there was a certain beauty here.
If such a flower bred disgust,
I'd shelter it, neglecting fear.

There was no trace of bitter cold,
upon return from curse'd land.
I left that world with fragrant sin
clutched tightly in my mortal hand.

My heart gave forth compassion,
when I stopped that day to pick death's rose.

Copyright © Michael Perriatt

Details | Free verse | |

Fields of the Black Rose

Flowing fields of black 
Roses the hue of night 
Dark meadow take me home 
Relieve me of my fright 
And take me back. 
Blackened fields of ashy rose 
Take me to my home 
Where I'll never see the sun again 
Where I'll never hate 
And never bend 
Where we only see in shades of gray 
Where summer sun has shone its last 
And November wind is here to stay. 
Where I can go forget my past 
And never have to pay 
For the things I've done. 
Blackened fields of ashy rose 
Take me to your home 
Where we all see in shades of gray 
And I can rest in the coldly blowing wind. 
Forget my face forget my name 
Forget my form forget my sin 
Let me stay and waste away 
Please won't you take me in?

Copyright © Harold Grimes III

Details | I do not know? | |


Love, Hate, Life, Death,
The Rose is all of them enmeshed.
The blossom of Admiration grows,
As do the hateful thorns of Rose.
Accompanied by Spring in Life,
It follows the casket in death and strife.

Copyright © Syd Floyd

Details | Rhyme | |

The Black Rose

I can't go on
The noise in my head
Futures bleak
Tomorrow i dread
Please come and see me
And I'll open my heart
Talk me through
And we will make a new start.
As quick as i could
The journey was made
As i opened the door
On the table was laid
An envelope,
Bearing my name
On the out side
It read.
I knew you would come
Thank you my dear
Your a wonderful man
Year after year
Inside, there's a letter
Written by me
I have decided,
What my futures to be
Don't be shocked
It's where i want to be
But don't worry
I'll be close to thee.
I open the letter
And unfold it out
It's totally blank
My life's without
I sit down stunned
My world apart
Making plans with my girl
For our new start
Hours pass like minutes
As sirens wail
A train has stopped
On the Northern Line rail
From her window i see
Her car all crushed
People turning away
In sickened rush
As i look at the letter
Blank as new
Our future decided
From that window view.

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Free verse | |

My Mother was like a Rose

My mother was like a rose
beautiful at sight
frail to touch.

She could stand up
and say her mind.

She needed love
I feel like she never got any.
And that’s why she withered away
like a rose.

Her heart was pure,
her soul made of gold.

She’d rustle in the wind,
and hide when cold,
much like a blooming rose.

Day by day
a petal would drop 
‘til nothing was left.
She was the dying rose.

And as each day goes by
without her sweet melody,
I tell myself this:
I must not cry that she is gone
but smile,
she was here.

Written by my 10-y.o. daughter Payton

Copyright © Anthony Amero

Details | Rhyme | |

Tender of Roses

Beloved, lovely roses: gift of God and lover’s flower,
Spread your colored petals and cradle tender showers.
While admiring the blossoms with their beauty to behold,
Ought we not to know the Tender of such lovely garden groves?

For He lovingly and thoughtfully wields His pruning shears
To cut away the stems of old for fuller future years.
He cultivates and feeds them. He attends them as a Father
Looking daily to their needs; so faithfully He waters.

From the dawn of morning dew until the setting sun arrays
Caring always for His own until that great appointed day…
When the Gardener comes to claim each one the earth held as its own.
He gently picks it at its peak and for His pleasure takes it home.

As God did one glorious morning, when the Perfect Rose had bloomed.
He rolled away the stone and met with Mary at the tomb.
There the sweetest Rose of Sharon rose that we die not alone.
But be gathered for a garden grove, surrounding heavens throne.

Copyright © Tom Valles

Details | Tanka | |

Death of a Rose

A summer rose fades
One by one its petals fall
In downward spiral
Scattered by an autumn breeze 
It's fragrance a memory


Copyright © Kim Merryman

Details | Rhyme | |

One Red Rose

     love left me empty
     this time it is for good
     a gesture one red rose
     alone where he stood

     so cold are my days
     the sun never shines
     the nights are unending
     and sadness is mine

     i remember the days
     when love filled my heart
     now it is empty
     and broken apart 

     one half of my heart
     beats lonely and still
     the other is with you
     asleep in the chill...

Copyright © Sharon Ruebel

Details | Rhyme | |

Rose Parade

. The flames 
. . inside 
. . . cold blue
. . you made,
. Watch a wilting 
. . rose parade
. . . Drowning roses 
. . losing color,
. Beauty, all, 
. . will kill another,
. . . Killed by 
. . crashing blue 
. cascade

. . Burning hatred; 
. . . frozen blue
. . Searching for a 
. golden hue
. . Where's the 
. . . sunlight 
. . casting light
. On rose parades, 
. . clear cascades,
. . . and all the life 
. . we thought
. we knew?

Copyright © Dana Smith

Details | Personification | |

My Unique Line - RD

"Petal nor thorn could save this rose."

From "Flowers...Beautiful Flowers"  
This line personifies the loss of life and the harvest of flowers  (roses) for a funeral.  Just as loved ones are lost each day in the prime of life (any time really), the rose is taken in the height of beauty and placed atop the grave.  This is in spite of the thorns which protect it.  We possess the attributes of the rose as well.  Yet, still we pass, regardless of benevolence or wickedness.

Copyright © Ray Dillard

Details | Romanticism | |

A Flower's Funeral

A sweet flower's funeral
displayed in the cold months
of snowy weather and bone chilling shivers.
A sweet flower burned away, dried up;
buried six feet under.

Oh, my sweet flower,
how you once bloomed with no remorse,
like a madman blooming with beauty
and a glorious halo over your head
shinned with such power and blinding glory.

Oh my sweet flower how you have gone now,
resting in peace in the land of paradise.
Oh, my heart it is weak when I see your face,
of once beautiful smiles and warm embraces.
I can hear your crying out to be free.

Snowing and bone chilling cold ripes at my soul
and feelings of sorrow rage through my blood,
boiling my hatred to the world, for losing your
sweet and ever glorious beauty.

What I would give away, if I could be with you
one last night, one last night together
to hold you in my arms, to smell your sweet perfume
that brings back sweet memories of you and I.
What I would do to be with you,
such romance travels through my heart in the highways
of my veins in my body, love is all throughout me,
and my heart breaks when pictures of you start to collect dust.

My love for you, my sweet flower,
is still ingering through the air,
as I travel and look upon a tombstone
which shows your beautiful name.

Come to me my dear flower,
when spring comes,
come to me my dear, sweet flower.
And bloom once again,
twice as large as last year,
and ten times more beautiful then last year.
Come to me in the first months of spring
in my dreams, so I could sit and talk with you.
I miss you already,
and my heart crys,
my eyes flood with tears of sorrow.
I miss our love we shared.
Long walks,
cosy talks,
warm cuddling embraces
and beautiful displayed in a picture frame.
Now I hear the tapping of raindrops on my window pane.
That is all that keeps me company,
that and the rose you gave to me
and a picture of you and me.
Love is endless, even when blue eyed Death comes to visit
and play a game of chess with us,
we all play our game, my love.
I shall go tonight
in my sleepy slumber
and dream of you in the times of our height in our love for each other.
My lost love, you are gone, resting in paradise,
but never forgotten my sweet flower.


Copyright © Chris Boskovski