Roses are pink
and they're sitting on the counter
with a note that offers
someone's deepest condolences

Roses are pink
and they're from the funeral
the one in Havana
that I couldn't go to

Roses are pink
and they're the closest to closure
that I'm gonna get
cause she's six feet under

Roses are pink
and they're dying too
when they're gone they'll be
just like her stories
and her soft crinkly hands
like her whispered "secrets"
and her favorite cartoons
and the summers she spent
in my grandma's bedroom
and my grandparents took
the grandma frank room

Roses are pink
and I hate that color
Roses are pink
I miss my great grandmother