We met in a garden of
Velvet roses.
The day was cool and the night
was near. Dewdrops gathered upon the
petals of the velvet roses.
Our love took us on an upwards
draft. The air threw us through
the morning's crisp wind
and our lips met on that beautiful
Autumn day.
Soon our souls had parted and time
curled the petals of all the flowers
except the rose.
My eyes filled with tears
I wondered.
Where had our love broken?
The days are filled with cold thoughts
Even when the sun blisters the skin
and festers the wound. My life
is unwinding.
The thread is long and unbearably
terrible. Then my soul uplifted
as my sight deceived me. The
roses turned brown and I laughed
with anger.
The seasons soon all became winter.
My tears turned to ice and my
heart had become frostbite.
Punishment perhaps for my unyielding
infidelity of our love.
The first time I saw her, her skin
was like the velvet petals--soft and surreal
in all quarrels of the mind.
Covered in the dewdrops of the unfettered
seasons.
Then one day, many years later
The thoughts dragged me to the garden of roses.
I did not stay long for I simply
left a letter bearing declarations
of everlasting love.
I fear greatly that the roses turned
brown in death.
For no longer do they grow in the
rose garden--where we met and where
we had parted.
And now I see how silly it is
To think that my letter will
be answered. Yet lo' and
behold the next morning had come
and a new letter was lain.
Still to this day I have not
opened the letter. I have
not the courage nor the will
To bind my love
in sorrow and tears.