My Dead Red Rose: The Symbol Of My Love

Surrounded by thorns this tender rose
Draws your blood and on it grows
The fragile bud begins to open
Every secret revealed and broken
Slowly the petals start to curl
The cool spring breeze around it swirls
Slowly, sweetly, sways in the wind
Until it meets its fateful end
The sheers so sharp away it cut
My sweet rose landing in the mud
Leather gloves pick up my rose
Around the flower strong hands close
Rose in hand he walks to my door
Expecting from me my love to pour
I glare at him as the door I open
My fragile rose in his hands broken
I take my rose to place in a vase
Where it shall stay till the end of its days
Over time my love and my rose died
So I hung it over my bed where it dried
My wilted rose preserved like stone
A reminder of the love so sadly grown
So solemnly grown and taken too far
Growing ever fainter like a dying star
Until finally I’m left with nothing at all
Except a dead red rose to hang on my wall