In the sand lying a rose I found.
A rose so red, I was astound.
A thorn-less stem and smell abound.
I lifted her; she bloomed alive.
To live together we did connive.
Permanently, I thought that I’ve
Written her name in my heart’s archive.
One morning I was taken aback,
When I saw my rose was wholly black.
Where was the red? I failed to track.
The sweet smell too it did then lack.
I then realized it was a spell.
Her red was black, fake was the smell.
Seclusion was Satan, my life was Hell.
No one ever heard my silent yell.
I stood bereft on the empty causeway;
A discarded butt in a void ashtray;
A starving man amidst a buffet;
Ugly, inodorous was life’s bouquet.
I returned to the beach, ruffled the sand,
Searching for the sweet smell and
The red of my rose, which was now bland.
But loneliness to me did life remand.
Betrayal, I found, was hard to take.
I could not bear my heart’s ache.
The thorns now pricked like the bite of a snake.
Greif had made the air opaque.
I stared at the black rose in anguish.
For it to turn red was my only wish.
What ere was lovely, now seemed fiendish.
It was slowly killing me, that obsession foolish.
I eventually pricked in my heart, misled,
The black rose’s thorn, and as it bled
The rose got covered in blood and turned red.
My wish was fulfilled on my death bed.
*Image Source - Here
*This is a guest post by Kalpak N. We all know him as a person with impeccable sense of humor. To everyone's surprise, he writes beautiful poetry as well. You can visit his blog here.