Take the roses away.
Do not press them into my hands
and make me gaze upon
their sorrowful maroon
and burgundy hues.
Cast them outside
and let the sun dry them into
rich yellows and browns.
Let the petals follow the birds
onto an easy breeze.
Let them alight on the river
and float like glimmering
boats in the distance
where droplets resists their skin.
Do not hand me the colors of sadness.
Bring me Pinks and yellows,
orange and lavender.
Fill my dying bed with colors of the rainbow
and let my soul follow the birds to their
eternal easy breeze.