The Rose

I loved her and she loved me,
that was clear for all to see.
Our beautiful emotion we held in our hands,
the most fair rose in all the lands.

No one else could interpose,
just we together could hold the rose.
And smell its sweet perfume that it would create,
from its lovely pedals that were so very innate.

Through all our problems it was always there,
to help us through and bring everything else to bear.
The rose was our focus, it was our connection,
before it, all other issues stood at attention.

No matter the challenge, difficulty, or strife,
with the rose we could make it all right.
Together we were happy, whole, and complete,
between us there was no deceit.

Today something changed,
or temporarily rearranged.
I don't know what is wrong,
I hope it doesn't last long.

I hold the rose, for it is my love,
and I would give to it whatever it would ask of.
She is gone and I remain,
is it me that is to blame?

Different, the rose now appears,
perhaps changed by all the tears.
A different form it does now take,
but I will not forsake.

The petals wither and begin to fall,
I hold it still, to the rose I am in thrall.
Thorns appear and I hold on tight,
I feel them in my hand as they begin to bite.

I miss her as I hold our rose,
but our time is not at a close.
She will return and all will be fine,
and at that time our rose will again shine.

Red, red is the color on the floor,
it drips off the stem of the rose I adore.
I hold onto the rose tight, as to not loose my grip,
as I feel the rose begin to slip.

I see red all around,
the flow of it does abound.
It is well worth it, for she will soon return,
and reverse this painful downturn.

My eyes feel heavy, I must quickly rest,
surely this all is just a cruel test.
I go to sleep never to awake,
was my rose really a fake?