Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

Brittle, dusty this rose of remembrance. 
Hanging locked within diary old and worn.
Ages pass as this affair has been abandoned.
Wilting memories fade as they are consigned to yesterday. 

Slipping from our grasp,
are those innocent questions asked?
As in summer sun, we did bask. 
How those days went so fast. 

Still the wilted, withering rose remains, 
Only if to remember your name. 
Of times when love be just a game. 
when touch was never the same. 

'Tis the rose of remembrance, 
That repeats this dance, 
Of when our hearts spun in a trance. 
Though we've all but forgotten.