A Bleeding White Rose

Nihal Sahu

The bleeding white rose,
By morning your petals resembled the moon
The day passed by and you looked fainted
By noon I jump hither and dither
The roses I gathered lay withered
My friends quarreled one another
Asking me whether I would buy another rose
Why are roses planted if they are to wither
Why are we born if we are to die?

Nihal Sahu -

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