“The Rose You Left”
The rose you left scotch taped on my front door
Was there for me that night when I returned;
I smiled, and then, of course, the tears began to burn.
My eyes; my God, my eyes! I dropped in that sweet moment on the floor
And felt so warmed, so gifted, honoured, blessed, and while
I knew you’d placed it there, I also knew
From Whom it truly came, and so, it seems, did you.
The several days had passed before I saw your smile
Again, but I was sure that when the moment came,
You’d probably forget somehow you’d placed
The blossom on the door and summarily effaced
The memory and the deed. I thanked you, just the same.
You left this world some nights ago; I wasn’t there—
Too many guests—but, here, alone, for you, Shapoor, I’ll say a prayer.