Nineteen roses we planted with care,
To bloom in front of our dream.
We worked as a team, to plant red, yellow and cream,
And nurtured them through their first year.
Daily we checked on their health and their needs,
And sprayed and pruned and fed.
Watered and weeded, and cut blooms as we needed,
To fill our home with colour and scent.
To both of us then, such a short time ago,
They were our pride and our labour of joy.
We would look out each morning, at the river performing,
Its sparkling dance, behind our roses in row.
Do you remember that time? When we smiled.
Oh! I remember, it was such a short time ago.
It was when we cared for each other, every hour of the day,
Just like we cared for our roses.
I have cried all the day, since I heard you say,
That our nineteen roses have died.
All the care love and dreams we shared as a team,
Are now heading the way of our roses.
Our marriage, our roses have suffered the same fate,
And it is easy to see what has gone wrong.
We could both blame the frost, the sun and the drought,
For killing our roses and dreams.
As easy to say the people who preyed on our weaknesses,
Our isolation and care.
Are to blame for us both just forgetting at once,
That we needed to tend our marriage each day.
In the last short few months, in such a short time,
We have both destroyed our roses and dreams.
But through it all, I have known in my heart,
That we are both still in love with each other, and roses.
With the last gasp of breath of our marriage that’s left,
Could I ask you just once to believe,
That if we both wanted to try with a fierce desire,
We could endure overcome and survive.
We will be different of course, from months of remorse,
And much hurt and pain to be healed.
We have both lashed out in pain, and apportioned the blame,
at each other, when we have felt wronged.
But, could we be strong, and right all the wrong?
And survive to rebuild our dream.
To grow old together with a fierce new vigour,
And in time be stronger than ever.
I have suffered hurt and pain, anger and shame,
On my way to this one last gasp.
But, I now know for certain, no doubt, it is sure,
My heart has only room for one love.
And as hard as I might, have tried,
To believe, that the famous “smile” was “right”,
And to allow my wife to be wooed.
I was so very wrong, I played with fire and got burned.
And with it….I killed the roses.
Written by Derek Haines