The Rose (2010)

I fell asleep one summer day
When all the world was young and gay,
But all the colour fled away
When I found myself awake.

For as I slept I had a dream:
A garden and a flowing stream,
Illumined by some lovely gleam
That caused my heart to ache.

At first I listened to the chime
Of water, passing out of time,
And mused that death was life’s great crime,
To give and then to take.

Then found myself amid the rows
Of flowers, in a place where grows
The loveliest, most radiant rose;
The place my heart would break.

I only sought to make it mine,
And in my hand to let it shine
In all its beauty, pure and fine;
But this was my mistake.

For as I reached my hand was torn,
My life spilled out upon its thorn;
And now I wander, lost and lorn,
Alone but for this ache.

And still I dream and see the rose,
And waking, feel the wind that blows
Between the wilting garden rows
With sorrow in its wake.

And still I dream and see the rose,
And waking, feel the ache that grows,
A restless stream that flows and flows
With sorrow in its wake.