Rosa dressed in green every day. She wore her grey jumper and flat canvas shoes and was ready for another day.
If people observed her, one cannot say, nor was she willing to hear their way. One thing was certain Rosa always had her play.
Rosa had lived for seven score years and had certainly out lived her peers. She did not care about people or their jeers.
Why even as a child she was not very mild and was often cruelly riled as her quirks quickly piled.
When she could not very often speak her mind, as an adult, she got out of the grind and let go of ties that naively bind.
She lived on the road, she was friends with the toad and loved her meagre possessions to hoard.
But Rosa's story did not begin there. Rosa did not live just here and there. She was a full-fledged peer. You just could not see her but stare.
With blood so blue, she could sometimes venom spew and old habits renew.
But Rosa declined, she had never been inclined, to live life enshrined.
So Rosa lived her life on the streets declining every delicious treat and refusing to claim her seat.
She was not the epitome of cleanliness but could not bring herself to change her slovenliness. She washed her sins away and moved instead to godliness.
One cold morn, when people looked with scorn, Rosa was found naked as a new-born.
Rosa was ravaged, her spirit damaged and forever more savaged.
Rosa's soul had left her whole.Instead was a wide gaping hole. Rosa was found dead tied to a pole.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such a sad poem👍👍😊
That, sadly is the real world for some Bernard!