Get Your Premium Membership

Catching the Wind

Days and nights, he spent running To collect a Rose for his inner room Nicely Roses smell, and gorgeous they are. On the one he wanted to pick, he fell At a peek, its sharp prickles stung him Such repulsion, he kept inside his heart. To another he found striking, he moved But cos of worms, its petals had decayed; And in his right hand, all faded hopelessly. Twice, the selection has demotivated him To no one the truth he could openly reveal And desperately seek for a Lily or a Jacintha. He loved Roses, but always failed to get them. As it’s evening time, the sun is already setting. No Rose he got, but had to return back home. Poem by Mugisho N Theophile

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.