those roses

Those roses turning from red to blue 

settling into an image not so different from when I offered them 

upon the altar of love

 They are not dying or losing their appeal

 just changing, transforming the idea is the same 

These have no thorns but our love does

 There is blood and pain along with the valentine 

Yet, like the roses We will persist,

 changing from red to blue and sometimes 

to black and blue part of the boquet I suppose