I stopped and smelled the roses,
I had always heard to do so,
I once enjoyed their fragrance,
Each day we watched them grow,
Tropicanas they were, reaching for the sun,
Brightened up the walkway to your door,
I know it's not the roses fault,
But I don't like them anymore,
Each time I see roses now,
It reminds me of your face,
I have to stop and tell myself.
You're in a better place,
I am losing my sense of reason now,
You're gone and yet they thrive,
Coming to hate a favored flower,
Your passing I can't survive,
They stand strong and growing ever taller,
Like everything's still the same,
How dare they continue to blossom and grow,
How dare they whisper your name,
I stopped and smelled the roses,
But what good did it do?
Although I did that one thing right,
I still had to say goodbye to you,
its a beautiful poem, Vallerie... the presence of things associated with one's past can indeed make one nostalgic...and the feeling lingers... Asma...
Very well expressed, scents can be such a strong association with memory.Best Wishes, David
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful poem...I loved the ending. Very powerful and moving! Top marks from me! -Michael