The Rose Meadow
Through my unending vision,
I look in her eyes to find
pinks and reds blossom to life
on the bed-sheet of roses that
she, herself had woven by
tiny threads of the vivid art
her soul couldn’t express,
but all her heart goes to
a rose shrinking in a corner-
A flower deprived of water and sun
had been longing for too long to
belong somewhere or to someone…
Copyright © Yasshve Changade | Year Posted 2023
|