My Murderer


Ironically, once a murderer,now the the victim, stood in silent remorse,
Never uttered a word of rememberance,
in reverence of my pallid corpse,
that lay in the graveyard of the offence.
He mercilessly plucked a rose from his garden, a remembrant.
A tear moistened the ground as he placed it on my oasis.
The ashen rose adorned me as my last ornament,
as I gladly named myself ashes of roses.

Comments

  1. UnknownFebruary 19, 2011

    fabulous ...

    ReplyDelete
  2. Md. AayanJanuary 13, 2015

    From the silent ashes of the fallen rose,
    Rises again a song of happy abandon;
    And the knife that killed my dreams,
    Lives free and knows love again :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Roshni VijayJanuary 13, 2015

      Your musings always come with a plateful of food for thought. What you have written is beautiful. Preserve it.

      Delete

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