Rose - Anita Lipnicka, John Porter

I put a rose

Upon your pillow

Where you rest your hair

I felt kind of artificial, clumsy

Putting it right there

There’s a rose

Upon your pillow

An open wound painfully sharp

It’s the perfect sign

You never know how long it’s going to last

Tell me, Will you come back?

Oh, Dearest, I must go away

Every time we hold each other

This could be our final day

There’s a rose

Upon our pillow

Staring us in the face

Telling us to do something

Before it gets too late

I stare

At your pillow

Where we lay side by side

Tightly wrapped together

Safe from the outside

In the shadows

Of early morning

When the village is sound asleep

In the silence

Before the birds sing

I can hear her gently weep