The Rose of Immortality.

A Rose as red,
As the Nightingale's blood,
The rose-tree sat on the flower bed,
High upon it was the Rose as red as crimson blood.

For years he watched it grow,
And for years she passed the garden's door.
How he watered it, she did not know,
With showers of Unrequited love, that did grow.

She'd lean in and talk,
Whilst holding other roses she'd gotten,
From along her wonted walk.
Yet, the scent of my Rose, had she not forgotten?

Time had set its seal on his brow,
He espied the distinct Rose she held tight, and he got to know,
Floodgates of sorrow, behold.
His Rose shall forever be immortal, in his fold.


~Sandro Sathyajith Perera 

All lyrics are copyright to Sandro Sathyajith Perera