I and the Rose

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                    I and the Rose

 

Beholden in an alien mead, just alone,

Of the noblest scion, lo it were borne,

The fragrant rose, draped ruby bright,

Puffing scent, in midst of a dark night!

 

To silent overtures, I didn’t catch clue

Verily ’twert chaste, so pure and true,

Sitting atop a stalk; in the velvety red!

A unique guise, but amid thorns bled!

 

The folks had adored, and admired it,

The aroma, the color, and its each bit,

A lure, a fantasy or a fairy-like dream!

My muse afire, and I raised a scream.

 

Bees and butterflies hovered around,

Tenacious to their cause ever bound,

And craving they must fairly appease,

The crazy looks, in the scented breeze.

 

Those dew beads aye there didst shine!

Had borrowed sparkle from tears mine,

In a delicate balance on the petals’ tips,

And tears hanging, on my quivering lips!

Beset with tussles, the abiding drill,

It worked its way, always up the hill,

So it lived with its honour and fame,

A bolt from the blue, till there came!

 

Alone amidst the tempest’s fierce blow,

Banged about but redder it didst glow,

My face flushed, and passionate I grew,

Near the tragic scenario; thither I drew!

 

Why shalt it be at pains? I would know!

Do breezes make features further glow?

Ah before the evanescent dewfall dried,

I seized the facile moment when it died!

 

Deadly magic had penetrated me like dart!

A beauty was wasted, ah it broke my heart,

But it worked wonders, in my hours of ache,

World would never probe, why am I awake?

 

Insidious and insurgent, then inching close,

When death shrouded that blooming rose,

I were tricked and beguiled; thither I came!

I’m dead at my core, yet in the living frame!

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By Dr. Riaz Ahmad, September 5, 2026

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