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  THE RED ROSE ON HIS GRAVE
I passed by his grave,
a red rose wooed me
it was beautiful and smiling at me.
I saw his face and the glitter in his eyes.
He died a year ago,
old and wise,
I had known him earlier, yet he was just a stranger,
till we became friends,
 then a mentor though in his last days in this bus of life.
He was old and ready for the other world.
his faith in God gave him strength each day,
and he feared not death.
The rose was singing a well composed song with beats that soothed the soul,
I smiled back

"This is what life is all about."it whispered



the urge to pick it and flash its scent over my nose overwhelmed me,
 It was on a grave,I restrained,



They were not two but one.

Two weeks later as I manoeuvred through my fate.
I passedby the graves again,
the red rose was withered and brown in colour,
it leaves were green and the plant stronger and older.
wow,but next his grave,a pink rose was smiling,
silently and calmly,
no music but it was comforting,
My soul was calm but I saw her face,
it was his wife ,who died several years earlier,
she lit his life
my nose was still and the urge to pick was not there,
"it is well my child" it said.

we all blossom at our time,
we love in a season and wither in a season
the rose plant green as it could was waiting for another season of blossom,
and another of seeding.

(copyright reserved by the author)

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