She heard a knock on the door and opened it to find no one but a red rose lying on the floor. The flower had a note attached to it which read,
'A rose for my Rose. Happy Birthday.'
Signed William.
She smiled as she recalled the tradition of sending flowers to each other on their birthday. He always sent her a rose while she sent him a sweet william, joking about the irony of the name.
She sighed.
It had been three years since she last saw him. He was now living a happy life with his wife and children while she was still trying to get over him.
She took out a paper and a pen and wrote a reply to him.
'Thank you, William. Say hello to my sister and your children.'
Signed, Rose.
YOU ARE READING
Provoked
Poetry"She spoke with a smile but somehow, her eyes always betrayed her lips."
