The Frozen Rose Bud Poem by Mohabeer Beeharry

The frozen rose bud

And when at last
After a slow march across a starless night,
The dark drifted,
Restless
I gently moved the curtains.

My heart sank.
The frozen shroud of an ugly frost
Extended beyond the fruit trees.

Whipped by the chill of the early morning breeze,
A single yellow bud on top,
The rose bush shivered.

A frozen bud,
Was all it had to offer
To the rigour of the unconcerned winter,

A missed summer's bloom,
Frozen in time
That could neither face the future
Nor turn to the past.

Gone the sunshine
In the train of time,
Leaving behind a cold, wind-swept and deserted station.

Like winter
Our hearts freeze now and then,

We judge,
We hurt
Little bother to think
Of the trails of pain and heartbreaks,
Left behind.
A little thoughtless pride too much, maybe!

Why oh why then do we want
To be like the frozen rose bud
In the winter of our unfriendliness,
In an unfeeling world of chilled values?