Remember me as the flower you plucked,
And not the one who you trod upon.
Though the scent of the roses becomes stronger.
The dew that fell in the early hours of the morning
Has dried up, shriveling some petals here and there.
The scent of the roses swirl in the maddening wind,
As petals slowly drift away, in a sorry slow motion.
The scent of roses has become so much stronger,
When you trod so carelessly upon the very flower.
Crushing the petals underneath your foot,
But woe the scent does not die and fade.
5 comments:
anyways,gud 2c u back in d writing moood!..hope tat can be in touch wit u like b4!!
u'r works always make any1 feel a kinda pained!
Really nice poem. Makes you wonder about a lot of things. Like how my ex thinks of me, and about how I remember the things about us.
Read through your Blog. Some I liked some I didn't. Most of them made me think deeply.
Who's the other writer you talk about?
The last thing that I will say is why so sad? Life will fix itself eventually. Sadness doesn't help. :)
@anonymous: there is no other writer. i write this blog all by myself.
i hope that answers your queries :)
the scent always lingers on.....and i dun mind d pain, pain has a subtke beauty to it bt nvr let it get the better of u....keep writin
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