A Bed Of Roses

to Marcy Howard

A memory, that I hold onto, that transports me, to yesterday,
As we began, our learning, these roses, led the way,
Though, you may think, those roses, are long gone,
I saved, every one, of them, so the memory, will live on.
At, some point, in the future, theses rose petals, will again live,
Though, it seems, since they’ve dried, there’s nothing, they can give,
Just think, of the magic, think, for what, they stand,
Enjoy, the realization, you’re special, to this man.
You hoped, that I would, stand for you, and, I’m standing, still,
Even with, these, dried out flowers, you know, I always will,
I, gave roses, often, and I, will, give you, some more,
And, each petal, that I hold, reminds me, of those before.
We began, on that bed, with roses, as your friend,
And I, will hold these roses, life, might end,
When you think, of  those roses, and what, they all, began,
Remember, a bed of roses, they’re in, my outstretched hand.



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