My Blooming Rose

Alongside me in rain and shine she walks her life on her own terms, setting the course on the pathway she likes to pave. Probing nameless people uncalled, she may descry break the fence of her protected privacy and pry, ask incisive questions to slice her persona. She doesn’t ever care to respond. In our passionate journey together for so many years I’ve felt in her heart sunk in the quicksand of time, emotions rise from the dormant fervor’s cauldron. The good done to her she can’t acknowledge loud, but the buds of love blossoming within, she keeps under protective shroud. Mellow sensitivity soaks all her inarticulate feelings, she is overwhelmed beyond measure, but doesn’t know how to demonstrate. A deviant introvert, she absorbs pain and joy silently, content with little and whatever I give as caring gesture. She hasn’t given me even a flower as a token of love, but I always adore her as a blooming rose I have.