Rose Cottage

By Deeshita Ghoshal

Counting the flames go off,

The whiff of the burning wax,

Overpowering the senses.

The air becomes heavy as though,

With the tears vaporized,

Of long ago.

Cries that went unheard,

Echo through the walls,

Longing to be heard.

Pieces of the hearts that broke,

Lay scattered on the ground;

Shards of glass they seem to be,

Making ours bleed thorough.

By Deeshita Ghoshal