Roses


Maybe she was really right,
to make me sail away.
We often had our lover's fights,
to scream the truths we couldn't say.

So I'll sail off on a bed of dead roses,
into the grey sea-foam,
and when the roses bloom again,
I'll know I'm truly home.


I know the poem is short, but I think I like how it turned out. Please tell me your thoughts.

Ps: The poem is about hope for the future... in case, you know... you didn't get that. :P