Roses are red...and white...

I'm in my room, quietly lying in my bed. I twirl a red rose between my fingers my it's stem. A whole bouquet of them sits on my desk, happy in its new glass vase. It was one of my presents for my birthday. That's right, my birthday. So why am I not happy?
It's because he's not here.
Dylan had left two days ago for his band tour to Michigan. His plane doesn't get in for a few more hours, and it will be too late for him to come see me. I sigh and let the rose fall to the floor. Then I roll over and try to sleep.
Ping.
Is it raining?
Ping.
No, not rain.
Silence. Then, a soft knock on my window. I sit up fast, seeing a face smiling back at me through the glass.
"Dylan?" I shout in a whisper, throwing the window open. He climbs through, straightens up, and then grins down at me before opening his arms up for a hug.
"Happy birthday!"
I want to slap him for being so dim-witted. Who comes to someone's house at two in the morning? Instead, I fall into his embrace.
"Idiot," I laugh against his chest.
We sit with our backs resting against my bed, my head on his shoulder.
"I told you I wouldn't miss your birthday," he says.
"I thought you were joking," I reply, then playfully poke him. "So, what did you get me?"
He hands me a plain white rose. I take it and twirl it in my fingers like I had the red one. "Pretty," I say, giving him a funny look," did you get it from Mrs. Garnia's yard?"
He shrugs, then reaches into his pocket, revealing a slightly crumpled piece of paper.
"Did you write me a song?"
He smiles and starts to read, picking up the fallen red rose as he does.
"This rose is red,"
He nods to the one in my hands," that rose is white,"
He moves closer.
"Will you give me the honor
Of a small kiss tonight?"
I smile and lean into his kiss.