A Garden of RosesA Poem by Isha C.I like to see- Rain falling down from the sky, It helps me to breathe; Seeing roses in my garden did not die. Roses have thorns, And so do I. You added fire to my pyre, Then asked me why am I not alive. Pause, silence, then rewind, We are back to nineteen ninety five. In that same garden No seeds were sown, You stooped me with your burden No birds sang; only weeds were grown. Years later I see grace fall as rain Sharpening my thorns, my armour against pain. My roses grew in the wild Blood red, gentle yellow and sometimes pale white. My thorns can pierce your hand Every time you want to touch But you cannot uproot me; I rose above through soil and mud. You were never a gardener, You were the leaf eating insect. Your twisted spade could not nurture, Pesticides fooled by you; far from being a suspect. I can still smell you. you reeked of pretension and sewage But my roses overpowered you, Now they dance in rain as the wind rage.
© 2018 Isha C.Reviews
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StatsAuthorIsha C.IndiaAboutI used to chase the waves of an ocean. Now I want to be a part of the ocean. more..Writing
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