Roses Poem by 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.