Dear Friend
This is just
one of those nights
where my memory of you
flashes in my mind.
How are you friend?
It's near winter here
but so strange,
'cause I found this one red rose
in my garden.
Do you still remember?
Yes,
I gave you one red rose
but it was dried
and that was
when we were fourteen.
I'm sorry,
for I have not given you yet
real fresh
one red rose.
But before forgiving me,
you must say sorry first
for not saying goodbye
that clear summer noon.
Or, did you intend not to say
because you are going to see me again
when I get there
in heaven?
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
Added by Poetry Lover
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