I once had written a poem,
“A rose is still pending” Even today when i read it, i remember my times. They have not ended, times just can never end, they modify, they adapt, and they go on.
That rose still lies in the heart, stored may be forever. I don’t find it coming out, it’s hidden there for me to see for others to feel, and expect for me to give it to them, but again n again, i find its now hidden inside a metal cell. I don’t hve the strength to break it and get it, to give to someone.
A frozen man, alive in time, living and breathing, the rose smells whenever the stranger passes by, it glows, everyone can see it, i can feel it. Alas, It lies there, unable to be picked. It just keeps on glittering, and as the time passes by, the stranger tired, starts moving, and the rose, understanding and knowing, the approching lonliness, starting glowing more and more, trying to tell the stranger that please stay. I am for you. Sometimes stranger stays, sometimes walks away, but how long will anyone stay waiting.
Trained to be alone, the frozen man just keeps on looking at the bleeding rose, for one day it will gray out, alone, if, even if it had been given the strength of a thousand thunders in the sky. A rain, which can embress whole earth, but is not allowed to embress the nearth stranger.
The rose is still pending…..Apurva