Old Red roses

Old red roses dried and dead
Wilted petals fall instead.
Once a love to call my own,
Empty vase with bitterness stands alone.
Dried up roses longing for that call,
Wither away, to break apart and fall.
Picked with love and given to Amir,
Left in darkness, with no sunlight and no fire.
A fire that once burned with admiration and compassion,
Roses that died as if love has gone out of fashion.
Long steam red roses waiting for a love that shall never show,
Wilted dried roses that will never bloom nor grow.