he looked at his calendar and realized the date
such a bittersweet day coming up for her
the hurt faded as he remembered her smile
he felt sorry that their last meeting was bitter
regretted that his last words were hurtful but true
to be honest he never stopped caring
even as he knew she hated him so
a walk past a flower shop sent his mind reeling
a stirring inside would not leave him alone
the rose, his trademark – white and pure
to show he thought of her on that special sad day
he didn’t give his name for the card
she knew no one else would send her a rose
but it wasn’t enough and the muse came out
he created a poem right there in the shop
it filled three cards just letting her know
how he still cared and thought of her
just deliver it as is he told the man
the poem the flower and forget my name
because if it matters she will know
and if it doesn’t there would be no point
it was delivered and left on the stoop
who knows how long in the rain and snow
did the flower survive to show its bloom
did she read the poem that piece of his soul
or was the flower frozen withered and dead
like the relationship that they once had
was the message that was born from his heart
just simply reduced to smeared black ink
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