The Broken Rose
She held it in her hand as tears fell,
a broken rose for a broken heart.
and the stranger watched from a distance,
his heart breaking each time.
she would never know what path the rose had trudged,
it had been valleys and hills,
all in a bleak weather.
But he only meant well.
looking at the sorry sight ten meters away
weeping under breath and shaken,
he saw a wreck.
he wore the tag of 'villainous coward' with regret.
it was hard for him too but she couldn't know.
he looked down to the sweaty palm of his hand,
at the card he had clutched for six hours.
she would never see it.
the broken rose had brought anguish,
this would one would kill her.
he turned, and walked.
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