Treasure Island

chelliah pandian


Roses smell differently
When you fry them in a pan
With lot of ghee and
Little bit of sugar

May be the roses are not meant to be fried.

But every rose that blooms today
Will die tomorrow
If I were a rose
What would be my choices?
Would I rather wait for the night
To kiss me to a slow death
Or prefer a lover to kill me instantly
To make me a symbol of love?
May be I would die as a
Spice in the food of someone’ life.

May be the roses are not meant to die.

Submitted: Saturday, December 14, 2013

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  • S.zaynub Kamoonpuri (12/14/2013 10:31:00 AM)

    Wow i so enjoyd dis quirky rosy poem. As an indian i use ghee but for yor fryin roses dats innovative. Gud poem indeed! (Report) Reply

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