Roses

Her roses

A dozen she would adore

I tremble as I think

To visit her once more

 

My attire is ragged

But she cares not

For she is lonesome

In her eternal spot

 

I approach, so

Calm and still

Walk up slowly

To my knees I kneel

 

I touch her granite face

Through time, has stayed the same

I press my hand against her

And run my fingers over her name

 

And lay down

Her roses

Author: Colby