Rose1First rose, from grampa’s bush
went to my teacher,
she was a pretty one.

There was that rose
I gave to my clever and smart friend
because I wanted her as ‘my only’ friend.

That one I got the first time
he’d thought I was intelligent and taller.

And then I got another and another
Some of them found place in the special diary
dried until the pages smelt rosy.
Red, pink, fragrant ones
accommodated many diaries.

But time flies, you move from places;
dried petals find trash bins.

And still, several moons later you love to get flowers;
When you’re a girl you believe
you’re meant to receive flowers.

But some girls like to return favors.
To that teacher who taught well, and wasn’t as pretty;
the friend who stood by the odds, staying invisible.
To that one who was clumsy in love and didn’t know a thing about roses.
And the one whom you told about roses and still didn’t get a cue.

Many years later you want to grow a rose garden and return favors.

3 thoughts on “Rose

  1. beautiful poem so eloquent. One can read it many times and each time it is a lovely experience…gratitude makes us come alive feel recognized so we can recognize others who have been there in their own unique way and made our life so much more because of it. God enriches us so we can inspire others.

      1. na..your poem is eloquent and beautiful and I kept looking at the roses and taking photos and thinking of you and what you say. It made all the flowers stand out more and created so much love and gratitude in my heart. Metphorically my photos are like the roses you speak of for my friends and family…to connect and stay closer even when far. To keep them on mind and to never forgot what they mean to me.

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