Red roses were her favourites, her name was also Rose.
And every year her husband sent them, tied with pretty bows.
The year he died the roses were delivered to her door.
The card said, “Be my Valentine,” like all the years before.
Each year he sent her roses, and the note would always say,
“I love you even more this year, than last year on this day.”
“My love for you will always grow, with every passing year.”
She knew this was the last time that the roses would appear.
She thought, he ordered roses in advance before this day.
Her loving husband did not know that he would pass away.
He always liked to do things early, way before the time.
Then, if he got too busy, everything would work out fine.
She trimmed the stems and placed them in a very special vase.
Then, sat the vase beside the portrait of his smiling face.
She would sit for hours, in her husband’s favourite chair.
While staring at his picture and the roses sitting there.
A year went by and it was hard to live without her mate.
With the loneliness and solitude that had become her fate.
Then, the very hour, as on Valentines before,
the doorbell rang and there were roses sitting by her door.
She brought the roses in and then just looked at them in shock.
Then went to get the telephone to call the florist shop.
The owner answered and she asked him if he would explain,
why would someone do this to her causing her such pain?
“I know your husband passed away more than a year ago,” the owner said,
“I knew you’d call and you would want to know.”
“The flowers you received today were paid for in advance.”
“Your husband always planned ahead he left nothing to chance.”
“There is a standing order that I have on file down here,
and he has paid well in advance. You’ll get them every year.
There also is another thing that I think you should know,
he wrote a special little card…he did this years ago.”
“Then should ever I find out that he’s no longer here,
that the card…that should be sent to you the following year.”
She thanked him and hung up the phone her tears now flowing hard.
Her fingers shaking as she slowly reached to get the card.
Inside the card she saw that he had written her a note.
Then as she stared in total silence this is what he wrote…
“Hello my love, I know it’s been a year since I’ve been gone.
I hope it hasn’t been too hard for you to overcome.”
“I know it must be lonely and the pain is very real.
For if it was the other way I know how I would feel.
The love we shared made everything so beautiful in life.
I loved you more than words can say. You were the perfect wife.”
“You were my friend and lover; you fulfilled my every need.
I know it’s only been a year but please try not to grieve.
I want you to be happy even when you shed your tears.
That is why the roses will be sent to you for years.”
“When you get these roses think of all the happiness
that we had together and how both of us were blessed.
I have always loved you and I know I always will.
But, my love, you must go on, you have some living still.”
“Please…try to find happiness, while living out your days.
I know it is not easy but I hope you find some ways.
The roses will come every year and they will only stop,
when your door’s not answered when the florist stops to knock.”
“He will come five times that day in case you have gone out.
But after his last visit he will know without a doubt,
to take the roses to the place where I’ve instructed him,
and place the roses where we are, together once again.”
And every year her husband sent them, tied with pretty bows.
The year he died the roses were delivered to her door.
The card said, “Be my Valentine,” like all the years before.
Each year he sent her roses, and the note would always say,
“I love you even more this year, than last year on this day.”
“My love for you will always grow, with every passing year.”
She knew this was the last time that the roses would appear.
She thought, he ordered roses in advance before this day.
Her loving husband did not know that he would pass away.
He always liked to do things early, way before the time.
Then, if he got too busy, everything would work out fine.
She trimmed the stems and placed them in a very special vase.
Then, sat the vase beside the portrait of his smiling face.
She would sit for hours, in her husband’s favourite chair.
While staring at his picture and the roses sitting there.
A year went by and it was hard to live without her mate.
With the loneliness and solitude that had become her fate.
Then, the very hour, as on Valentines before,
the doorbell rang and there were roses sitting by her door.
She brought the roses in and then just looked at them in shock.
Then went to get the telephone to call the florist shop.
The owner answered and she asked him if he would explain,
why would someone do this to her causing her such pain?
“I know your husband passed away more than a year ago,” the owner said,
“I knew you’d call and you would want to know.”
“The flowers you received today were paid for in advance.”
“Your husband always planned ahead he left nothing to chance.”
“There is a standing order that I have on file down here,
and he has paid well in advance. You’ll get them every year.
There also is another thing that I think you should know,
he wrote a special little card…he did this years ago.”
“Then should ever I find out that he’s no longer here,
that the card…that should be sent to you the following year.”
She thanked him and hung up the phone her tears now flowing hard.
Her fingers shaking as she slowly reached to get the card.
Inside the card she saw that he had written her a note.
Then as she stared in total silence this is what he wrote…
“Hello my love, I know it’s been a year since I’ve been gone.
I hope it hasn’t been too hard for you to overcome.”
“I know it must be lonely and the pain is very real.
For if it was the other way I know how I would feel.
The love we shared made everything so beautiful in life.
I loved you more than words can say. You were the perfect wife.”
“You were my friend and lover; you fulfilled my every need.
I know it’s only been a year but please try not to grieve.
I want you to be happy even when you shed your tears.
That is why the roses will be sent to you for years.”
“When you get these roses think of all the happiness
that we had together and how both of us were blessed.
I have always loved you and I know I always will.
But, my love, you must go on, you have some living still.”
“Please…try to find happiness, while living out your days.
I know it is not easy but I hope you find some ways.
The roses will come every year and they will only stop,
when your door’s not answered when the florist stops to knock.”
“He will come five times that day in case you have gone out.
But after his last visit he will know without a doubt,
to take the roses to the place where I’ve instructed him,
and place the roses where we are, together once again.”
SO SPECIAL AND BEAUTIFUL THANK YOU
Wow! Very beautiful, indeed! Thanks for posting it.
Awww…what a lovely tale, told in an absolutely beautiful way!
This made me cry… Lovely story!
meh.
wow…wish someone would love me that dearly
Sounds like a greeting card; not exactly Keats.
what aload of old balony
Absolutely beautiful… simple but meaningful and definitely touching…
Necrophilic flower delivery isn’t my idea of romantic.
If you want the most beautiful poem ever, I suggest you start at the library instead of in the greeting card aisle at Wal-Mart.
i just threw up in my mouth a little.. this is melodramatic garbage and demonstrates how intellectually stunted we have become as a country when some deep fried twinkie eating housewives from the bible belt consider this “art”… haven’t you ever heard of walt whitman or t.s. eliot or william shakespeare or a litany of other real poets…
that was beautiful i dont want to idmit it but it made me cry a little i hope that doesent happen to me some day and oh great i`ll probably be sad all day well now im mad i read that it was cute at first but now, thanks alot
Christ alive, what a load of rubbish.
It starts off scanning in a kind of da-da da-da da-da da-da da-da da-da-da McGonnigal meter, which is hilarious when it’s trying to be moving. Then the meter breaks down entirely, especially at the florist’s phone call.
Besides the fact that it is Very Bad Poetry, isn’t it a bit selfish of the dead guy? What if his wife wants to move on and get on with her life? Every year a bunch of flowers turns up from her dead husband? How egotistical of him. What is she finds someone else? What will the poor guy think?
Give the writer/poster a break, I never knew there was such mindless and emphatic nonsense spewing from the mouths of what appear to be self elected poetry experts. The idea of poetry is that it can appeal to anyone in any way. How dare you people post here with your self-righteous, pompous rhetoric, as if you are some kind of authority on what people are allowed to consider as good poetry. Get lives. If you don’t like it then fine but there is no need to be so arrogant.
Thank you, Liam. These posters think that they’re the authority on poetry, just because they’ve taken a few classes and know what meter is. No, it’s not an original style, and no it’s not absolutely perfect, but it’s rather well written, and it’s a beautiful story. If you can’t find the romance in the story but instead would rather just insult something better than anything you could write then go TRY to get a life. Go find romance… But you’re probably too much of a douche for anyone to care about you this much anyway. Keep trollin.
Writing about a man condemning his widow to feel the heartbreak of his passing year after year with a stark reminder of his passing doesn’t strike be as particularly beautiful or lovely, just cruel. In one line he urges her to ‘go on’ without him, but yet he refuses to allow her to heal and move on. The flowers will only stop when she dies and joins him?
That guy is a egocentric fuck. That’s not love.
Where the hell was he anyway? Why were the flowers always sent, and not delivered by him?
Were they in love, man and wife, or was she his SLAVE? Still controlled by him long after his death, and to be buried per his instructions with him after her death.
This poem is a poorly written and doesn’t even know what it’s trying to be. The rhyming couplet doesn’t even rhyme half the time, and the subject matter is empty and lifeless.
In other words, I agree with G.
Dears,in spite of being so egoistical ,the arranging of the words is awesome.and so impressive.”It’s better to say the secret of lovers in the love story of the others”
thanks
amazing amazing amazing !!! a poetry rolled the tears down my eyes ! the most beautiful poetry ever read !
Its a request from my side, not to discourage the poems that are posted in. If you have anything better in stock, you have no stop to it… Post your piece of poetry and then compare.
What a great poem,an if you cant see its good then you dont know pottery.