Rose turns its face to find the sun,
Curved pale petals catch the rain,
Sundered two who were once one,
Sweet petals cup an endless pain.
Rain the cold, unfeeling balm,
That soothes and scars and bites so deep,
The storm that blows away the calm,
Ransacks the place where roses weep.
Rose turns away from winter frost,
And sheds its scent, though none comes near,
For all the summer love that’s lost,
The blackbirds’ songs that none will hear.