How Might a Love Be Likened to a Rose

How might a love be likened to a rose,
A pure pink passion plucked on Friday night,
Soft petals brightened by her smile’s glow
To open like my heart she set in flight?

Is it Adam’s Curse that we must toil,
Or else that words like petals fall and die,
Peeling to more beauty ‘ere they spoil –
A dirge mistaken for a lullaby?

Whispered words are briefer than a flower.
Can dates upon a cork bring back the wine?
Love alone does not possess the power
To grant eternal life or make her mine.

Surrender comes, oh nothing gold can stay.
Today I had to throw the rose away.