When the Rose Was Red


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1. When the Rose Was Red

Do you remember when the rose was red?

When its petals were bright and smiled,

Soft like an eastern silk

Long ago, when the rose was still red.

Do you remember when the rose was red?

When you held it and ignored the thorns?

Though they cut you and your blood was red as that rose,

You held it close for it was mine to you,  

When I looked unto you with such an admiration.

A forbiddance separating us and breathing into our love

Such romance extant and potent

That we thought it might never die.

Do you remember when the rose was red?

When our faces were young and pale

Our eyes soft and limpid like pools after the rain

When our minds were free with ignorance

Our hearts at peace with each other;

When the rose was still red.

Can you not remember?

For now I see your face and your wrinkles

And you see mine, are you not pleased?

No longer does forbiddance sigh romance, or distance grow the heart

But memory serve to suppress, and interpretation to bury;

Do you remember when the rose was still red?

You seem not to, like I do;

Perhaps in my mind its petals were sweeter and fuller;

And in yours they are grey as they are now.

Blowing as dust through the field in which you dropped them.

Might we not find them again?  Perhaps they are still red but…

They are dead as We are dead.

Do you remember when the rose was still red?

I do and it seems not long ago, so close and by my hand,

That I might grab it and hold it close, but the petals are fragile with age

As are we now.

Do you remember when the rose was red?

Perhaps to forget would be better,

And put at peace was time has rendered painful.  

 

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