Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Roses, Dew Drops and a Morning Sky

Tripping over a flower,
I fell down,
On to a thorn,
Piercing me in my eyes.

My eyes started bleeding,
And the white rose,
Turned ravishingly red,
Waiting to be seen.

Sun rose,
Above the horizon,
Painting the skies red,
With the blood on the rose.

Rose lost all its colours,
Blood no more red,
Was still clinging to the flower,
Shining as a beautiful dew drop.

And my eyes could still see,
The reflections of a red sun,
On the dew drop,
Kissing the white rose.

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