Two Roses

A dark grey Winter's morning,
No leaves are on the trees.
No birds sing in the shadows,
There's no freshness in the breeze.
A Man walks slowly onwards,
Heart heavy in his chest
His sallow face is wretched,
His soul is not at rest

The working men stop digging,
And straighten in respect.
Their joking words, forgotten,
Their cheerful morning, wrecked.
This sight, for them is common,
The painful grieving is not rare,
Yet they stand silent, as if frozen,
By the tension in the air.

The man walks slowly onwards.
He does not see them at their pose.
His thoughts are on the burden
That he carries - a single rose.
In his mind he hears her laughter
Then her voice - as clear as a dove...
"One white rose for our friendship,
One red rose for our eternal love."

The man walks slowly onwards
His eyes are glazed with tears.
At last he comes upon it
And falls gently to his knees.
"My love," he whispers hoarsely
As he kneels beside the grave,
"The Winter is arriving and
White roses bloom around the glade.

So you have your rose of friendship
As I promised on that day.
And here is our love's symbol."
Which, on that grassy mound, he laid.
"One white rose for our friendship
One red rose for our love -
After thirty years of mourning
Soon I'll be there with you, above."

With that he got up slowly
On his face a gentle smile.
He turned calmly to the workers
Saying, "For in a while -
I'll be buried there beside her
And as you throw in the mud,
Perhaps you'll think about us
And this token of our love."

One of the workers then stepped forward,
His heart touched by this sad tale,
"I'll put some flowers at the grave Sir -
Them roses sweet an' pale."
But the man shook his head, smiling,
"Thanks my friend, but you see...
She soon won't need her roses
For she'll once again have me."

The man walked slowly onwards,
Away from that sad scene.
And as if some spell had broken,
Life carried on as though't had never been.
And yet, a certain something
Hung in the air above,
A memory of a grieving soul,
And his tie of enduring love.