The rose

The day you came to my door,
Playing our song.
A red rose clenched in your nervous palm.
A beautiful singular rose.
Still glistening with fresh dew.
Deliciously scented.
"As red, alive and as every bit as beautiful as you".
You said with a smile.
The day you left, the rose withered And died.
Was cold and as dull as our love Had become.
A ghost from the past.
Haunting my waking hours.
I cleared it away with the rest of Our memories.
Sealed in a velvet box.
Hidden from memory.
Sleeping in eternal solitude
Sealed away in my heart