He had always loved her
he called her his dream,
they were inseparable
like moon and moonbeam.
A single rose he gave
to the love of his life
every week, on a Friday,
‘til they were man and wife.
Even after marriage
things remained the same,
a red rose on a Friday,
a card attached, her name.
Always with a gentle kiss
upon her eager lips,
stroking delicate petals
with feminine finger tips.
This rose became their bond,
a bond no one could break,
today was dark and lonely,
as a red rose he did take
and placed within her hands
folded on her breast,
he bent and kissed her mouth
and whispered “You’re the best”.
A tear fell on her cheek
as she lay in sweet repose,
the card read ‘I love you’ from
The Man Behind The Rose.
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
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You have out done yourself with this!!
