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Oshin celebrates the rose in this evocative poem exclusively for Different Truths.
Should she ever know,
How treasured she is
For she’d cease to grow
Beautiful in a poet’s dream….
Frail she is, a sweet untouchable;
(Yet, I wouldn’t say thorn-less)
For the ages she has been
A queen of my secret garden
O! An enchantress of weary souls;
True that she casts spells
For her, I’ve played a pirate
Her silence be my sweet plunder
‘twas the sixth hour of spring
When the day’s complexion wears away
Beside her, dropped I, lifeless…
Her silence, be my secret haven
Ah! She wouldn’t talk for hours
Or mark …if the dawn looked prettier
Like she did, in my meditative hours
Like she did, upon my blank stare
“Her secrets why shouldn’t I know,”
I stood up, to drift away
When, at last, murmured she
In scented notes unintelligible
Gently, I touched her
And she died petal by petal
Her frailties scattered on my writings
I’d scribbled for her so far
Aghast, I collapsed upon the floor
The ink was still wet
These teary offerings to her petals
Remind me of dews, she bathed in
She’d never know
How treasured she is
Else she’d cease to grow
Beautiful in a poet’s dream!
©Oshin Gulsia
Pix from Net.
