I was thirteen and I had got a date one day,
My very first... and I was so excited...
I went ahead and flowers bought bouquet,
- Twelve scarlet roses - hoping heart of hers to get ignited.
I was stood up - she did not make the date...
I felt ashamed, embarrassed and betrayed !
Those flowers burned my hands and made me be suspect,
They yelled that I am total failure and reject.
I threw away this evidence of shame.
To glowing roses I assigned the blame.
In instance came relief, despair went away.
I still remember vividly that day,
Experienced by me half century ago.
But recently this story came again to me to grow...
While walking down the street I noticed the bouquet - exactly that,
Or very similar - I couldn't tell you more,
Which lay abandoned on the top of parapet,
- It was another failure of distraught amour !
