Bouquet of Flowers

I used to love flowers

the way they smelled,

the way they felt.

You took that from me,

with a bouquet of roses.

On a cold summer night,

I waited for you under the street light.

You were late,

but I didn't mind.

When you arrived,

My heart felt full;

because, although you didn't know.

That was the first time

someone has ever bought me flowers.

And it was the last.

Because love is a concept,

one that I couldn't comprehend.

And happiness is found in moments.

Moments we freeze, with pictures and words.

But moments never last,

although they should.

Like a bouquet of flowers.