On her bedside table sat a jar.
It was tall and wide
Square and round all at the same time.
The jar was clear with no labels,
But for it she had big plans.

Inside sat one rose.
The stalk touched the bottom
And the head sat just above the jar opening.

One Lonely red rose.
This rose meant everything to her,
She knew it would die soon,
But in the meantime,
She would keep it beside her.

She looked at it at night,
When her lanterns lit up her room,
It intrigued her.

Something so beautiful,
Yet so small and alone,
It reminded her of him.
Her man.

He gave her the rose,
As a reminder of how
He picked her,
Out of all the beauty in the world.