They had me at goodbye
as they always seemed to die
slow like a rose
one day jubilant and alive
then like sleep goes the week
and it’s noticed that the rose
has died. But see, I kept them there
all wilted and decayed
brown and crumpled I’d debate
taking them to the trash
throwing them away, though
a rose in its youth is beautiful
so too is a rose left to dry.
So I pressed them between pages
and drew a pretty picture
poured ink from my memory
so that even in death
they’d remain
alive.
Words Of An Average White Male 
As a lover of dried roses, I used to buy them just to dry them. I’ve written about it as well.. Beautifully done.
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Lovers, roses, thanks for sharing.
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I love this. the words roll off the tongue so easily.
Sorry I took so long to check out your blog. Sometimes I get wrapped up in writing and forget to read.
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Better now than never, thanks for reading.
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I do this too, for far too long. Read my “Lonely”.
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