A rose stares at me
At the bedside table.
Reposed and still, it is
Withered by time,

Drizzled with tears and
Years of waiting and
Wanting for love's
Redemption.

For a moment, it recites
A poignant Villanele
Inscribed on a faded
Photograph of young

Lovers. There was a
Promise of forever,
But forever is a word
That belongs to fairy tales.

There is no fairy, only a
Tale of fair reality that even
The Sun sets in paradise...
Another rose stares at me

At the bedside table, she is
Reposed and still. Nightfall
Comes, as she leaves our
Room, darkness invades the

Horizon. The rose has ceased to
Bloom.