Monday, September 7, 2009

The child's roses and dreams

I was once strolling by the lanes in the city,
When I saw the little form, silent like a shadow,
She was holding on to roses, selling them off,
The bangles on her wrists had been broken -
The remains still dangled on, much like her,
She had questions in her eyes when she asked me,
To buy a bunch of red flowers for my lady,
I said I didn't need them, she said she did,
I was almost frozen when I wanted to cross over,
To the other side of the road where she won't -
Follow me, look at me, make me wonder why?
Instead, I turned around, looked at her again,
"Why do you do this little child?", I asked,
"I don't know", she said when I realized that -
She really didn't have a reason, she had hope,
That somehow she will manage to survive yet -
Another day in the gruesome world of hers,
So if roses got her that, it was roses,
Or it could be tulips, lilies or balloons,
Her dreams could not be beyond the life,
That she has, or that is what I thought,
So I asked her, "What do you want to do?",
She closed her eyes before looking at me,
She said, "I want to touch the blue skies -
- While, I am floating on the sea",
She had dreams much deeper than mine!
With so much meaning, such a wonderful want!
And I told myself that dreams are not like us,
They go to whoever has the heart to call them,
Not just to those that shall bear them fruit,
I bought a bunch of roses, I am not sure -
If that would change her life but mine -
It had changed in that moment of reality,
I knew I had to touch the blue skies,
One day, while floating on the sea...


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