Birthday rose

A rose, given to me
as a special gift from you,
it blossomed oh so nicely
with a scent of life’s perfume.

each day, as it reached out
proudly flexing its fragile pedals
it seemed to talk to me,
so everyday i made sure it had water
like relationships always need.

eventually, it started bending at its neck,
this dying rose with it's slouching pose
still retained its beauty.
so i didn’t bother to simply throw it away.

i watched that rose
act as though
it knew what was going on,
it’s change reflecting ours.

there’s one little difference
i still have that rose,
and every time i look
its' black drooping pedals,
reminds me
it shall never bloom again.

but i keep it there
in its tall glass lair,
hoping again some day,
you and i, a pair.