A Large Single Red Rose.....

Last week I passed a graveyard

a cold and lonely place,

A man stood by a headstone

wind blown tears upon his face.

He stood there silently weeping

etched deeply in his face was pain,

why does everyone have to die

at the end only death can reign.

In his hand he held a flower

a large single red rose,

his eyes seeing old memories

of the one he once held so close.

I saw him later in a pub

alone and at the bar,

I saw the crack in the mask

I saw his deep red scar.

I know I'll always remember him

standing there silently weeping,

he frequently enters my thoughts

silent, unbidden and creeping.

1983