Black Rose 2

When I was small I had a wish,
Of growing in my garden a black rose,
They say it is rare, and so thought I,
That except it won’t grow I any other rose.
Then I grew older and until then,
Every day I looked for a black rose,
When suddenly I came across one day,
A dark beautiful silent black rose,
In all the garden and in the whole plant,
There was only one, only one black rose.
It grew in the garden of one of the ladies,
My mother knew her since we were neighbors.
I went up to her and asked her softly,
‘Can I take that one’ pointing at the black rose.
She laughed for long and then she said,
‘Oh sure, but why would anyone take it,
It’s dry and dead and will wither off tomorrow,
Take a red one, or a yellow, they are not dead.’
I sighed for some time, alas, I was running,
For so many years for something that is dead,
And pondering over this thought I realized,
Even love in my heart is silently dead.
The heart was red, the rose was too,
But now that the rose had turned black,
Has my heart turned black too?


4 thoughts on “Black Rose 2

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