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Monday, January 4, 2016

Rose


It was a clear, windy day,
Clouds floated by
The summer was well on its way
Autumn still a bit shy

The park was full of color
Of flowers, paint and clothes
A child in red and blue attire
Frolicking in the balmy day

He saw a flower big and brighter
Swaying in the golden light
And with his mother in his mind
He plucked it out, and jumped in joy

He ran towards her
Sitting in the shade
Seeing him, she spread her wings
A harbinger for the warmest things

Before he reached her, he fell,
Stopped, not by stones, but bullets, fell.
The satanic sounds of guns roaring
The pleading sounds of men soaring
The utter hell of a mother holding close,

Her child, with a blood red rose.

3 comments:

  1. It is just what I was looking for and quite thorough as well. Thanks for posting this, I saw a couple essay writer other similar posts but yours was the best so far. The ideas are strongly pointed out and clearly emphasized.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you for the encouragement. I hope the poem resonated with you at some level.
      Also, sorry for the late response. I am not getting updates for comment on the blog. shall look into it :)

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