PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It’s a cold day,

walking to the market.

Seeing many people I’ve seen before.

Familiar faces.

I keep on walking,

past the news paper stand,

past the flower stand,

and the smell of fresh cut flowers,

takes me back to the days,

when we were together.

I stop at the fruit stand,

carefully inspecting the strawberries.

A hand touches my shoulder,

I turn, startled.

It’s you,

my first love.

Standing there,

with a dozen red roses.

You must have been thinking of me,

as you passed the flower stand,

and saw me pass by,

moments later.

The only words from you mouth,

“remember the roses?”

A tear falls down my cheek,

as you walk away.

Flowers in my hand,

and all I can say to myself is,

“I remember the roses.”



~*~ Jill ~*~