Mourner

He is a red rose, Bleeding as it grows, Hardening with thorns, As each day it mourns, But he mourned for love. He broke through the challenges of life, Each day finding strength to strive. One day finding one single love, But she flew away like a dove, And he mourned for love. He raised three beautiful rose buds. Each one different, but he never judged. One grew strong, one grew long, While the last grew wrong, So he mourned for that one. He took one tiny hurt rose bud under his wing. He fixed her to where she could sing. He gave the rest of his life to her, Until he began to wilt and was no more. His last dying years he mourned..... But he mourned for me. Finally all he mourned for, Mourned for him.