When Roses Turn to Grey

I planted it there

alone in the glade,

Pink and rare

and never to fade

 

Yesterday I went

to our place in the woods,

The rose was bent

and my heart raced backwards

 

Either a mischief-maker

had come this very way,

Or you were a faker

I saw not ’til today

 

I hurried to your house

as fast as I could;

Not a louse

stirred in the wood

 

Fear dredged my heart

for I knew where you’d be:

With that shameless upstart

‘neath the honeycomb tree

 

And there I found you

sure enough,

As my heart broke in two

I forgot how to be tough

 

I dragged my feet

back to the glade,

The rose smelled less sweet

as it began to fade

 

All colour I could see

was draining away;

Heartbreak must be

when roses turn to grey.

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