A red rose on the page of my age imitating the dance of morning wind, as it ripples my spirits in waiting Smell the breath of youth and pass it unto her the light of time for when yours dim you shall enjoy hers, glowing on a sun-kissed stone Carve love that you’ve never tried freeing it, from the pocket of your thoughts on this red rose, longing for a grasp ‘Tis alone wish of a lonely heart and if the wind can hear it... why can’t you?