Time Cycle Poem by Anita Sehgal

Across my window
A tiny rose bud peeped shyly out..

Pure, innocent, fragile..
Days passed..

The bud turned to full bloom,
Radiant in its glory.

Vainly it preened at the sun.

Soon enough the petals turned pale..
forlorn and lonely..

The drooping stem heaved to bear its dead weight..

The days waited patiently.

For the rose to bide its time..
Anytime, anytime, , .. now
An endless time cycle.

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