Lost, in my deepest dream I found
a cold place far from false mirrors,
where the safe road of absent hope
would not let me feel around.

The moonlight reflected on the snow,
and there my eyes were captured by
a delicate flower in the distance,
as it was trembling all alone.

That was the rose I chose

Its fragile beauty stole my thoughts,
its deep sea blue stabbed my senses,
its wild innocence was hidden from
a twist of fate against all odds

I confused tiny drops on its blue petals
with tears from other seasons,
and approached despite the fear
of turning big smiles into letters.

That was the rose I chose

Imagination seemed to be the best haven,
from fields of gold to shallow valleys,
sunsets that felt secure and warm,
adventures begging to be taken.

Even when wind could not reach my rose,
that gelid night had to play its role.
I watched it die so close to my soul;
as quickly as it appeared, it froze.

That was the rose I chose

My shaking hands refused to set it free.
Not even the only star left on the sky
could restore its endless bloom.
The sudden rising sun betrayed my will.

Silent past whispered me lies I’d never heard.
There is one I couldn’t afford to ignore.
How could I live knowing I am not allowed
to wake up from the dream we never shared?

And that was the rose I lost.