Roses 

When life gives you dirt,

Grow roses.

Let each dream bury itself in mud 

Caked with death and failure 

But when the time is ripe, 

From the seed will erupt the tiniest scope of hope 

And the air, the sun and the rain

Will cling to it; just like our hands extend to grab every wisp of life possible.

Let them do their work 

Maybe some of the seeds will grow into plants 

Others will rest in their graves. 

When life gives you dirt,

Grow roses. 

Because even when they bloom

And spread like an eagle’s wings, 

They will slowly wilt 

But in their passing,

Every petal will still look

A fading beauty.
©Isha Malaviya. 

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3 comments

  1. Through the medium of this poem you have exhibited the bliss of your creativity in such a graceful way. Thanks for sharing such a lovely post! I really liked the way every word was oozing out such descriptive emotions. According to your convenience please do read some of my writings would love to know what you think about them 😊

    Like

    1. Thanks for respecting my invitation, whenever you feel like please feel free to explore any of my writings an honest feedback would be highly appreciated 😊

      Like

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