The Rose Poem by Vishal Kadrekar

There the wilted body lies on the soft brown earth,
Bare and dead,
Nobody remembers him,
With each moment his lonely presence fades.
He was a proud flower, only one of its kind,
Gone were those days when every velvet red petal would shine.

How the rays of sun would fight, to get its feel,
How the wind trickled through its body, with a playful zeal,
How the bees would relish on its succulent nectar, to have their fill,
How its fragrance would refresh tiring travelers with new will.

He was a proud flower, not one of its kind,
Because in the woods there were other like him,
Whose velvet red petals would shine.

The season of summer didn’t fade, though monsoon had ushered in,
The ruthless rays of sun burnt the flowers skin,
There were others too who suffered the punishing faith like him.
The delicate flower dropped dead.
Oh! Nature was so cruel on him,
For soon it rained,
And filled the river up to the brim,
And injected new life, new dreams.

There the wilted body lies on the soft brown earth,
Bare and dead,
Nobody remembers him,
With each moment his lonely presence fades.