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By Ankit Chaudhari

Among so many of her kind, in a garden somewhere crowded, a rose bloomed to its conscious.

Started craving for herself, a new journey far away from the rest. Everyone came and went, passing over to someone else, some kept looking yet no one dared, one talked yet couldn't care.

Unpicked every night, at starry sky delight the has gazed, hopefully as it was at times, yet in other frightening cloudy sight.

Unable to move on her own, away from this growing mourn, blaming her own seed for being mellow, for every standing still same tomorrow.

Scaring everyone, alone, dreadful, but yet not defeated, one morning suddenly, she wasn't there.

Peers flustered yet relived,

with the grief which follow, owner calculated less one in yellow.

So many came that day, yet no one noticed, expect one soul, lingering in remote shadow, waiting as he was, for her cost,

in hope one day he could borrow. But the day came little late, sobbing he was in the dark, where resided his lost Paro.

By Ankit Chaudhari

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