The Reddest Rose

In the prime of your youth so cruel and short, I handed you the reddest rose with velvety petals and with a gentle gesture you took it dreamy eyes to delight your sense and cheerfully accept it. That rose has never faded, it has remained intact and I hold it thinking about the seasons we spent together by that river that carries away all dreams we wished they would never know the flow of tears. In the prime of my youth so distant from any crowd I carried you in the deepness of devoted thoughts imagining two lovers more eager than a greedy child who was never glad or satisfied with a few toys. That pretty girl with golden hair ran on jasmine fields that met idyllic sunsets that vanish into almost nothing, I chased you until we both fell on the flaming grass out of breath, thrilled to lay there and start indulging. In the prime of fullest joy, we listened to the inner voice telling us that there wouldn't be another similar time: either grab it or postpone it without a specified guaranty... if it would be avaialble for us to enjoy and climb to certainty.