The Last Ros’e

Every year, for decades, I have given you a rose for Valentine’s Day. A red rose, like the ones you love.
A rose token of my love, a way to renew the promise to love you forever that I made you years ago.
For years, I’ve never failed to do this.
And then you died.
You didn’t wait for me. We could grow old together, have grandchildren, support each other in old age.
You were in a hurry to leave me here.
Were you bored with this life? Did I give you too much love?
Or maybe, did you want to prepare my space in Heaven?
I don’t know, I miss you, baby, I had already bought the rose, it all happened so fast.
The rose will die with you.
I drink a glass of wine thinking of you.
We will meet again, my love.