Two tender eyes
witnessed our love, my love:
a black velvet night
and a red, trembling rose.
The night, alas,
whirled past the galaxy,
then dissolved
in heavenโs warm embrace.
I remember...
why donโt you?
O rose! My red rose,
the envoy of longing,
the whisper of my heart,
gifted into your palms.
Neck so proud, head held high,
you plucked her down,
petal by petal,
with your playful, wicked fingers
as you looked through me.
And now you ask,
Love? What love?
Ah, if only my life
could turn to a pilgrimage,
wandering in search
of that night we lost.
Let me breathe my soul
into the withered bloom,
so night and rose return,
and bear their silent witness:
yes, you loved me too.
Some nights still smell like that rose, perhaps, even silence remembers what you pretend to forget.