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