There stood the Rose blossoming each day,
He watered her, he watched her grow.
She gave in all to see the smile linger on his face.
But he never once told her how much the Rose meant to him.
She waited each morning to be with him,
She waited for the day the smile would transform into loving words.
Never doubting his feelings but longing for some signs,
But he was a man of few words and for him expressing was a crime.
As days passed she grew a little tired,
He still watered her and watched her grow.
Her longing created a vacuum within and a bit of her got sucked in each day,
He saw his Rose withering unable to grasp what was missing in his care.
And finally one morning she was no longer there,
He dropped on his knee with the can of water lying on the floor.
He held the Rose in his hand and a tear escaped his eyes,
And whispered the words that could have saved the love that had died.
