The Rose
I kept the rose on my table
The most beautiful flower I’d seen
Given to me by someone I love
Perfect and pristine
The rose lay on my table
Its romance with the bees just finished
Away from the virgin gardens
Picked and plucked
The rose had no regrets though
It had seen this happen; every-time
A love sacrificed
To see a love blossom
Copyright © Shreetam Subhrankar | Year Posted 2010
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