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Roses in Winter

I pass a little flower shop,
On a crowded street where I walk alone. 
I glance at it, but do not stop,
As December creeps into my bones.

Amidst a city's winter grime
The florist's frost-rimmed glass exposes 
A window into summer-time:
Rows and rows of red-red roses.

A woman looks out, seeing me.
I shiver, only not from cold.
She's twenty-one, or two, or three,
And suddenly I feel old.

A crow that sees a sparrow sing:
I curse whatever gods have sent her.
I am winter, watching spring,
And roses should not bloom in winter.

Torre DeVito


Notes =================================

I woke up in the middle of the night with the line
"Rows and rows of red, red, roses" in my head... 
I had to toddle down to my office and jot it down.
Three hours later I came up with this:

Roses in Winter

I catch the bus on Lexington
I think the route is one-oh-one
I ride for thirty blocks or so
Then trudge a few more in the snow.
I pass a little flower shop,
I glance at it, but do not stop.
The florist's frost-rimmed glass exposes,
Buckets of bulbs and rows of roses,
A window into summer time
Amidst a city's winter grime...
A woman looks up, seeing me
She's twenty-one, or two, or three,
And suddenly I feel old,
I shiver, but not from the cold
A crow that sees the sparrow sing:
I am winter watching spring.

==================================
And then this:

I catch the bus on Lexington...  
I think the route is one-oh-one
I ride for thirty blocks or so
Then trudge a few more in the snow.
On a crowded street I walk alone.
The frost is in my joints and bones.

I pass a little flower shop,
I glance at it, but do not stop.
The florist's frost-rimmed glass exposes,
Buckets of bulbs and rows of roses,
A window into summer time
Amidst a city's winter grime.

A woman looks up, seeing me
She's twenty-one, or two, or three,
She walks beside me for a while,
Blushes, flashes me a smile.
and in an act that's meant as kindness
Flirts with me, such youthful blindness...

She cups her hands arround my match,
Then she steadies me on an icy patch
And suddenly I feel old,
I shiver, only not from cold
Like a crow that sees a sparrow sing:
I am winter, watching spring.

Three possible endings 
(remember, NOT autobiographical!):

And later, when I wake beside her
(for nothing could I have denied her)
I find out, much to my surprise... 
That tears have welled up in my eyes.
And I curse whatever gods have sent her,
For roses should not bloom in winter.

- or -

And later, when I am at home
I wake up in the night alone
Tears have welled up in my eyes.
I think of her, and am surprised
I curse whatever gods have sent her,
Roses should not bloom in winter.

- or -

And later, when I wake beside her
(for nothing could I have denied her)
I quickly dress, and zip my coat
I only pause to slit her throat,
And curse whatever gods have sent her,
For roses should not bloom in winter.

=============================================
Final thoughts: 
The long version is OK, but too many words, 
and the aa bb rhyme scheme is too trite, but 
still there is something interesting about 
the long version with the third dark ending. 

                             - Torre