Crimson Red

By Harjashanjeet Kaur Sidhu

I know it was morning

But I was a midnight.

I know she was wondering, 

But I had lost my sight.

I know they were grey,

But you were blue

And I fell in love,

With the different hue.

I know they were thorns,

But you were the golden thread;

That shone at midnight —

Deep inside my head.

They might declare

That you are now dead,

And I know these are lavenders;

But I am a rose — crimson red.

By Harjashanjeet Kaur Sidhu