One Rose

One Rose for the valentine Who never was mine Whose lips never passed Through the chinks of our class Through the jeers and the taunts of considering the nigh-gaunt giant who with her would be. One Rose for the lady who once was my baby She might have been crazy but I no longer care. The smell of her hair And the looks we would share Keep me company often on night's long sojourn. One Rose for the Spring not arrived for the King no returning the burning, the feeling, the yearning, and better t'was lost in my memory's pages flirting with logic and fading in stages; an innocent gaze and an innermost churning And slowly -heart tearing!- so slowly my eyes rip away and I'm turning and feeling most lowly. Mark Burton Saturday, October 8th, 2005, 3:25 A.M.