Rose Garden       

Roses murmur softly
Untold tales
As they toss their heads
In the cool breeze.
Innumerable secrets
They hide
In their fragrance
Aspirations of young couples
Laughter of children
And innocent gossip of friends.
Mute spectators are they
Of passion filled glances
Stolen kisses
Unfulfilled love
Promises made
And soon forgotten.
They manifest
In their thorns
Pain of the lonely
Forsaken hearts;
Blubber of the elderly
Who patiently await
Return of their children
From distant lands.
Thus are born
Their blossoms
Of different hues
Some bright pink
Like the face
Of the newly wed bride
Others charcoal black
Depicting gloom
Of sorrow ridden souls.
The burgundies
Mirror forth unconscious beauty
The yellows
Tell tales of hope
And solemn friendship
The reds
Sing epics of bravery
And saga of true love
The peach ones
Take after
Ravishing lulus and mantraps
The lavenders
Personify enchantment
At first sight
Leading to grief untold
The whites
A reflection of serene minds
Filled with innocence and purity.
Rose garden
Is a universe
In miniature
Its heart throbbing
With passions,
Joys and sorrows,
Of the visitors;
The mixed colours
Life is motley
Of experiences varied.

ŠAnil Sarwal
August 25, 2003