Alien Roses
Take the mist from the mountains.
Use it to cover my heart.
It's the colour of morning fresh roses.
Alien roses.
It was you who handed me the mist,
the roses.
You who said you would never try to own.
You told me to just 'be'.
Well, I did. Holding the roses and the mist
close to my heart.
I was 'being', and then you left.
I begged you to stay, asked you why.
There was never an answer.
So slowly, I watched the roses die.
The beautiful, rare alien roses
that was our love.
My hand reaches out to grasp
the morning coloured mist.
It slips through my fingers and escapes
back up to the highest, most unreachable point
of the majestic mountain before me.
As I climb the great mass, chasing the mist,
I slip and discover a new patch of alien roses.
These are the colour of our dreams,
our hopes. The colour of love, once faded,
but now vibrant as love returns.
The roses seem to speak.
"I was never dull. I never left.
I was simply covered by the
mist that covered your heart
and likewise your eyes.
You chased the mist away,
exposing my true colours."
I get up and turn, leaving the
roses where they lie.
A piece of memory to look back on.
A smile forms on my face as I
remember.
