Pritha's pomes

Some rhyme, romance and a wee bit reason maybe, bear with me ?


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My desert rose…

I gently crushed a red rose in my palm,
To the distant dunes, I let the petals fly,

Desert wind, I said, Carry this fragrance far and wide
Just leave the bloody thorns for me.

To which I heard a reply deep within,
As if the scorching wind now gently mocked me,

Petals and thorns are both yours to keep, it said,
Love and pain will both remain within thee,
To want one sans the other is to ask for a night without a star
Know that even a wilted desert rose, spreads its fragrance from afar.