By William Armstrong
A withered rose lies on the floor of the veranda
Where a young Spanish woman once stood.
It was given to her by a mysterious hero;
A man who fought for justice and good.
She wondered who it was that hid behind the mask;
He who stole her heart away that night.
She knew he had to be handsome, brave and strong;
Was he someone that she knew by sight?
She hoped he would ride into Monterey that day,
And take the Governor's offer of amnesty;
Unmask himself to all, and take her away with him;
But she found out it just wasn't meant to be.
Fate was to be unkind to all of her hopes and dreams;
There was still the need for El Zorro to ride.
For although her knight did appear, it had been too late;
The time wasn't right for him to be at her side.
So now Anna Maria waits and wonders if the time will come
When he is ready to settle down at last with her?
Until that day arrives, a withered rose is all that remains
Of a promise that might have lasted forever.
