One

The flowers you sent
died today.

Petals fell
one by one
I began to count
lost in thought

the numbers no longer matter.

Days have gone by,
I cross off the calendar
pages turned

months, years

love given
not returned

and still I love.

(love you, and you, and you...)

What is it worth
when none accept

what good is this love

with another month gone,
(another page turned)

one may be the loneliest number
but one is the only number

I can truly count on.

BAN