January 17, 2021

No one has noticed that pink rose in a while-

The one that was once in full bloom;

The one that shone brighter than the rest-

On the last full moon.

The flower now I see is smashed-

Trampled by stray dogs running wild.

The same flower that once stood upright in the sun

Petals blushing pink like an innocent child.

The flower and I are friends now you see,

We bonded over shared grief-

For I too once stepped out into the great, glorious world with an innocent dream

But was crushed under its harsh realities.

The world kept running ahead like the pedestrians on the side walk;

No one had the time to stop by-

It was hard to keep up- we really tried;

But were far left behind- the flower and I.

So I uprooted the flower from the side walk

Planted it in a little white pot.

On mournful mornings and lonely nights,

It warm solace I sought.

Soon the flower was back in its blushing bloom;

Nourished by the sun's warmth and water- the bees over it hovered.

But what got it through the terrible times, was the love that I showered.

This was the story of one single rose-

The one that I made mine.

Look around you though, friend, there may be so many more-

Who with your love and kindness too, would bloom just fine.

The earth would be a better place-

If only each of us could pick up a wilting rose.

Every single one would be back to its glory-

If for just a while we could hold it close.

- Subarna