A red rose in my hand,
In July’s warm care,
Would be a dream – no more sad,
If July just dared.
A white innocent one,
So much things I can’t tell,
Nothing you have done,
Nothing you did well.
Just a black dress, you wore,
And you are so far away,
Just that taste that I adore,
And green smells the day.
When I heard about it,
My little world crashed,
Would the pink one just fit,
Yet, the hope you just smashed.
I have a red rose in my hand,
In a July’s evening,
Hope a chance you will grant,
Anyways, I don’t want to talk.
Written in: April 2013
Published in: Schmitz, Timo. For better and for worse – A collection of poems. Berlin, 2013.
Visit also: Prolific Pulse Podcast – Poet Talk with Timo Schmitz [2021]
Timo Schmitz 