The Dropping of the Rose
Emerging from behind the statue
Slowly, mournfully, full of sorrow
Staring after her with teary eyes
Then bends down and picks up the rose
Remembering leaving it on her dresser
And fingering the black ribbon still tied around it
The red petals cold and velvety soft
like her skin in the darkness
And the secret love... destroyed
Clutching the rose ever tighter
until the thorns became covered with blood
He faces the sky and cries out in agony
not from the thorns of the rose she dropped
but from the dropping of the rose