Name:  
Email: 

	
Name:  
Email: 

In the dead of winter
Our love came to a tragic end,
The things we said were bitter
But the roses I did not send.
Why did you look at me
When you saw them at your seat?
Don't you dare think I cannot see
That woman whom you greet.

Why do you look so sad
The petals follow the wind
It cannot be so bad,
For these roses I did not send.
Darling, love is blind,
Strangely, I still see you;
Perhaps another day our hearts will collide
And then maybe our love is true.