Old Love

A vase has roses,

Beauty admired by all,

Delicate petals,

With long, strong green stems,

Right now, their love is like gems.

Over many, years,

Restless beauty fades from sight,

Vase is half empty,

Regret and pain fill the space,

Happiness gone with no trace.

The wilting flowers,

The petals old and tired,

Punctured with tatters,

Along with lasting heartache,

How much can this flower take.

But the flower stands,

It's coloured a faded pink,

Its scent still lingers.

Will it wash away the hurt,

We can hope for the comfort.