Maybe It Was The Roses

Annie died in her wedding dress and her body was sent to the funeral parlor.  Her will clearly stated that she wished to have her whole body covered in roses till she couldn’t see.  That was an awful lot of roses, but no expense was spared, and the funeral director purchased 24 dozen roses.  Annie got a loving feeling every time she was around roses, and her beautiful fantasy would finally come true, her corpse would smell lovely even though some people might think that this was decadent.  Her makeup was fixed and her long brown hair was dressed up with crimson ribbons and then the undertaker laid her down in a bed of roses.  Thorns from the roses, were placed around her head, which kind of made her look like a model for the Statue of Liberty.

She looked so beautiful, having died young, and leaving behind her gorgeous corpse.  We were having an affair and she pledged to marry me when I got back from my trip, but a whole bunch of shit happened and I was out at sea for 10 years.  When I returned from the sea, I found my love dead.  The casket contained one pane of glass, a window to view Annie, before she was lowered underground.  I knew that over time the crimson ribbons in her hair would fade and that I would be haunted by the vision of my Annie for the rest of my life.  A lone old man entered the funeral parlour when I was morning and I told him to come in and shut the door.  He introduced himself as Annie’s father and he told me how faithful she was to me.  He said that all she ever thought about was me and that she had abandoned all of her friends which he felt was strange because nobody comes around to see her anymore.  He said that all Annie ever wanted was me and the roses and now all I can do is reflect on my pain and the beauty of love lost.

Annie laid her head down in the roses.
She had ribbons, ribbons, ribbons, in her long brown hair.
I don’t know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.

I don’t know, it must have been the roses,
The roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair.
I don’t know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.

Ten years the waves roll the ships home from the sea,
Thinkin’ well how it may blow in all good company,
If I tell another what your own lips told to me,
Let me lay ‘neath the roses, till my eyes no longer see.

I don’t know, it must have been the roses,
The roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair.
I don’t know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.

One pane of glass in the window,
No one is complaining, no, come in and shut the door,
Faded is the crimson from the ribbons that she wore,
And it’s strange how no one comes round any more.

I don’t know, it must have been the roses,
The roses or the ribbons in her long brown hair.
I don’t know, maybe it was the roses,
All I know I could not leave her there.

Written for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie NEKNEERAJ’s Photo Challenge #271.

10 thoughts on “Maybe It Was The Roses

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