Your love is a “red red rose”,
I saw the flower,ignored the thorn
It pierced my finger,my heart,what matters?
The red rose,my fresh blood,
I put it,sandwiched in a thick book
Years past and your love?
Oh! It isn’t the same “red red rose”
I opened the book,found it
Old rose brown,wrinkled,
Colours all faded and dead,
This is why you gave me?
Your love so easily withered,
Better if you had gifted me
A stone or a pebble.
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