Pretty, fluffy flowers all over the world,
The white to signify purity,
the red to decorate a bride’s curl.
.
Some say they bleed,
some say they bloom,
Some say smelling it can lead to doom…
.
The thorn of course,
Hurts without particular force,
The pain can be intensely deliberate,
Which leaves one shocked and separate…
.
The yellow are a symbol of sweet friendship,
The black are the rarest of them all,
The green don’t exist as never to earth they fall.
Some children love roses more than their dolls…
.
Though they come in colours of various states,
Their fragrance is the same,
as decided by fate.
The baby pink bear the softest love,
The darkest magenta bear the greatest hate.
.
However, if its allures you too much, dear,
It can consume you and fill you with fear.
It can blind in its beauty, lead you to complete tears…
.
As where there is good,
there will be somewhere bad,
Where someone is happy,
someone might be sad…
The delicacy of a rose is too powerful to withstand,
Quiet and mysterious, too elegant to understand.
By: Shreeja Mukherjee
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