I picked a few guard petals off, of our roses

hoping that'll help us to tell

If there still is the old love alive in it

If it still is blooming and well.

But it's a while, until we can notice

If it yet remains firm rooted to the earth

Or is but a display of bouquet roses

Doomed and fey, but well preserved.

So I lie in the wake of their beauty

All the more in nakedness, and wait

Be baffled but aware of uncertainty

Hope, this was cruelty, and a waste.

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The florist had asked me to remove the

guard pellets off, before I give the roses

to you, so that's what I did.