Monday, May 11, 2009


A dozen red roses--my favorite flowers--
mock my every move where once they brought joy.
What we had is gone and even looking at you
brings tears of pain to my eyes.
Your poor attempt to hold me with these wilting flowers makes me sad.
Stay away from me!
I can not be yours, now or ever,
and I must leave the past behind
And leave the roses there to die.
© 1982 TDD

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