She was the rose among roses
Tender and young
The attraction of all bees
The delight of the morn
Fragrance of the garden
Her petals fresh and supple
Never did she open her petals for those bees
She blossomed beautifully with the passing of each morn
A rose of a kind
A replica of perfection
A sight to behold
She was everything of a treasure
Until, that sad morn
When he walked sheepishly into the garden
Attracted by her intoxicating fragrance
With a face of a saint, but a heart of the demon
A treacherous smile he wore
He! he who wore the mask
Beguiled sweet rose with his false charm
A happy day it was for him
And a doomsday it was for her
Sweet rose hearts fluttered with joy and love
But! Nay if she had known her fate
She would have cried a sea of tears
He who wore the mask; took sweet rose to his abode
Instead, nurturing her with a tender hand like she was
He nurtured her with a fist of an iron
Recklessly, crudely, aggressively
Oh poor rose lost her supple by each passing morn
Her young heart yondered for her past abode- a peaceful abode it was
She whose petals were fresh and supple
Now turned rough
Poor rose suffered with the ticking of the clock
Till her petals went dry and dead
She lost her intoxicating fragrance-she became stale
Poor rose lost all but her beautiful heart
Till she wilted and died away
Oh poor rose
Is this thy end?
Mariah Ali
1/12/2016
Cried! Meeting the man who wore the mask. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Piece of great elegance with rendition of words to utmost justice. A power depiction of breathtaking loveliness in a tragic love story, well articulated and nicely penned with insight. A lovely poem indeed. Thanks for sharing and do remain blessed.