The Rose

We’d been together so long, it seemed

That nothing could tear us apart,

We lived our lives in a world of dreams

And Barbara lived in my heart,

But frost had covered the window pane

And then it began to snow,

As Barbara turned, with a look of pain

And said, ‘It’s best that you go.’

I didn’t know what she meant at first

As I looked up from my book,

“Go where?’ I questioned, but thought again

As she quelled my heart with a look.

‘I said I want you to leave,’ she cried,

And her face was set in stone,

‘We’ve come to the end of the path,’ she sighed,

‘I want to be left alone.’

Then suddenly all confusion reined

I didn’t know what to say,

Whatever had brought this mood on her,

I wished it would go away.

But she was firm, and she packed my things

And ushered me out the door,

I stood there shivering in the cold

To be back on my own once more.

I found a flat and I camped the night

There was barely a stick or chair,

I’d have to buy all the furniture

To make it a home in there.

But I sat and cried in the empty room

As the question came back, ‘Why?’

I’d loved her so and my heart was torn,

I thought I wanted to die.

I went to her with my questions, but

She slammed the door in my face,

Whatever love she had had for me

Had vanished, without a trace.

It hurt so much that she cut me off

With never so much as a sigh,

I called that all that I wanted was

To tell me the reason, why?

The roses had bloomed so late that year

Were still in the garden bed,

We’d always tended the bush with joy,

We both loved the colour red,

So I snipped one off as I left one day,

And planted it under her door,

To let her know that I loved her still

I didn’t know how to say more.

Her brother called in a week or so,

Said she was in hospital,

She’d gone in just for a minor cure

And thought that he’d better tell.

So I caught the bus and I went on down

With a quaking fear in my heart,

She hadn’t said there was something wrong

Before she tore us apart.

The doctor came in his long white coat,

His brow and his face was grim,

I said, ‘Don’t tell me the news is bad,’

He said, ‘I’m out on a limb.

Your wife just passed from the surgery,

But she pulled, from under her clothes,

And asked if I’d pass this on to you,’

In his hand was a red, red rose.

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Einstein Noodle]

awwwwwww i am choked up by this red rose of a story ... i started feeling sorry for the poor guy right off; but kind of smiled at his predicament... and ended feeling much sorrier still :( she was a corker!
E.

[Valentine]

One of your best, written flawlessly, it gave me the chills at the ending. Thank you for another super write. Valentine

[Tony Jordan]

A masterful story from a master-story teller. Flawless and full of tear-jerking sadness. She did it out of love for him - tried to shield him then a final reconciliation. Beautiful DLP.

[Barbz]

The Rose is written as beautifully as the flower itself. It is symbolic of Love and is a natural symbol of its kind, as is your poem. I am impressed yet saddened by its consequence. On a lighter note, I was tickled that you used my name as your female character and hopefully you don't have a crystal ball....Great write DLP. barbz

[Manu]

Very very Beautiful poem, Sir.
This one is quite an engaging write and filled with beauty. Quite a heart-breaking one too.
Her love is immortalized in the fragrance of 'Rose'

[wordman]

and the rose will never die,great story david