10 or 11 or maybe 12

I'm not sure of time

I don't look to the clock

I don't wonder about anything else

my mind is consumed with one thing

the apple, dove, and pink rose too

they bloom in my mind

and slowly over time

will grow larger will leaves new

     And the pink rose will never wither

the apple, never bruise

my heart beats wildly

as I lay in my bed

wearing only your clothes

your aroma stays with me

I close my eyes and picture you here

the only thing that's near me

and while your gone

I'll hum our song 

thinking of you, my darling