The smell of rose,
It’s fragrance too soft,
When enters the soul,
Makes it feel to yonder a vision,
In silent nights, the air smells soft,
Like the darling buds of a rose,
The rose is you.
It makes we await,
The buds to grow and play,
Dance gently with the wind,
In springs and rain,
From it stands and wait,
And wait long; so long…
The end is near,
For there is the winter to come,
It tries to live,
In vain it fails,
As nature who creates,
Never fails to destroy,
To save its essence,
To eternal springs of joy!
Thence I sing,
The joy of living,
The joy of being!
6 comments:
oooooo my god! i just really dont understand from where does this winter always comes in between roses and .
Thence I sing,
The joy of living,
The joy of being! ]
hmmmmmmm, from a song?
lol...seasons anonymous...spring, autumn, winter,summer...the seasons always comes :-)
From a song? Nope...is there a song like that? Didn't know...do let me know...k?
seaasons seasons and seasons' now a days when i remember your poems i first of all remember all the seasons
good good...that won't make you forget the nature's changing moments...hehe...
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