Bitter Tears

A dry rose pressed
In the book of Job
Tells me of time passed
Slowly, maddeningly.

I bought you a bouquet,
Tied with red and silver ribbon,
Despite the pain
Of snags and pokes
From razor sharp spikes.

The minutes turned to hours
Waiting, dinner cooling,
Candles melting,
Slowly, maddeningly.

You faded from my life,
And became one more memory,
A mere milestone
In a life of loneliness.

Today when reading
About trials and tribulations,
I found this reminder
From a life slow and maddening.

Has it been seven years?
What does that equal
In bitter weeping
And a soul torn apart.

Moisture slowly drops
On a dry rose.
It softens like my heart;
Slowly, maddeningly.