Withered away, the rose once fragrant
Pungent now it’s odour smells
Far and beyond from soul now vagrant
In oblivion now it dwells
Remembrance of its scenic beauty
Its endeavor picturesque
To tend thy garden was my duty
Now in darkness, you shall rest
For in your tending, I would often
Lose myself in reverie
A reverie of petals softened
With the love you’ve given me
Waking up I found myself dismayed, astonished, and aghast.
My suspicions sprung to life
Like the ghost of Christmas past
Foolishly, I had forgotten
That every rose did have a thorn
Here I sit now; waking, grieving.
Here I sit now; forlorn.
Inside my heart I find myself gazing
There where stood your edifice
Embers now a flame once blazing
Blinding me with prejudice.