Yellow rose - R.I.P.

A brook of tears runs silently
Beneath a weeping willow
And salty showers fall quietly
Down a cheek, onto a pillow

The grass grows long and wild here
Where no hatred does abound
A soft song echoes from a soul
Still waiting to be found

A breeze which skitters through the leaves
Whispers words you never told
Adds a chill to the freezing air
As below me you lie cold

Your resting place is beautiful,
Ironic, i suppose
Please know that i still believe in you
My darling yellow rose.