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| 3401 Copyright 2002 Wanda L. Harrell |
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| A nervous smile of anticipation was on my face But you were not there to see it the hour I arrived. So slowly, I opened the door to find Not you, my love, but our room. All scattered over the floor and across our bed Was your loving greeting, countless rose petals, of the red, red kind. Deep from within my very soul came the expressions on my face And you were there to see them for every hour and day we shared. So slowly, I opened the door to my soul, my heart, my body and mind Just for you, my love...so that in our room All scattered about were the essences of our blending and oneness Becoming more treasured than rose petals, even those of the red, red kind. Salty, were the shimmering tears streaming down my face But you were not there to see them on the hour that I departed. So slowly, I closed the door behind Not on you, my love, but our room All scattered with precious memories of where we'd laughed, loved and resided And my loving farewell on your pillow, a single rose petal of the red, red kind. |
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| Click on the rosebud below to return to the index of Wanda Harrell's Romantic Poetry & Poetic Prose: |
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