A

smoke of sadness flushes through,

A sadness that can be felt from a heart 1000 miles away,

It is part of me, though it is not within my own body; it is without.

It is part of my happiness, though its pumping I cannot feel,

It is part of the us, though I have not yet felt its rhythm,

It sings pure joy, though at times it gets hurt,

It is love in color, yet, susceptible

to pain. My heart ails, I

Extend to it a red

Rose.