Two Dozen Red Long-Stemmed Roses

Two dozen red long-stemmed roses
arrived with lots of baby's breath and                                        
a healthy dose of fern
a month after you left
for home on
your side of the pond

I must confess I called my friends
to brag about
their beauty
your generosity
and the implications of your gift

Two dozen red long-stemmed roses
held court on my dining room table
presiding in a formal place of honor
for almost two weeks
before I questioned your reticence
stupidly ... ignorantly ... unforgivably
allowing myself to believe that

Two dozen red long-stemmed roses
were a sign of mutual respect and affection
a celebratory place to begin us
but your messages did not come
except as replies to my inquiries
your short snippets as my tea time meal
of tripe and inedible gristle
served with indigestible trivia for pudding

on our infrequent, transatlantic calls you were surly
brusque and unkind
which cut me to the quick
slowly ... it dawned on me that

Two dozen red long-stemmed roses
were your memorial epitaph
a remembrance, of us
an odd funeral offering
as you were too cowardly to tell me
that we were at an end; not a beginning
so in ignorance, I had made a fool of myself
a daft, Yank hen - gone barmy

nothing tangible now except
the mass of rotting stems and petals
of  two dozen red long-stemmed roses
which faded and withered
leaving indelible stains on my best carpet
and
the only heart I possess