Among the Blue Roses
When the pencil shade is lighter
an the sun glares brighter
I find myself struggling with prose
yet the world turns cold
and soon my verses will grow old
I must always have my blue rose
Death could arrive tomorrow
to end my life in sorrow
and leave me there to doze
but if that shall be
Don't be diffident to see
If alive still my blue rose
Six years of growing became a day
and soon we go our own way
onward toward the lives we chose
one of us will be travelling
the other perhaps remembering
May she always be my Blue Rose