Roses on my Windowsill

There are roses on my windowsill,

you left them there for me last year.

With a smile and a kiss,

you swept me up, and danced around

like the happiest a person could be.

Now, I look back at the roses

they're brown and beginning to die.

They're just like you,

you gave me love, a person to lean on to

and took it away, gave it to someone else.

Every winter, like today

I look out at the windowsill

where the roses are growing

crystals, like jewels on the

brown petals.

Why, couldn't you be like those jewels

so bright and beautiful

all the time, lasting forever?
Why did you have to leave me here alone

with the roses on my windowsill?