A rose tree, beside the hill
Witnesses splashing translucent
Stream, flowing down the hill,
Flourishing, wavy, shiny, fluffy.
The rose tree bows down to the nuts,
Woods and green oak leaves
That stream carries
From hills to plain,
To the land of unknown.
The rose tree speaks to the water layers
Every time when it drops its’ roses
With one desire to be carried to
A land of wonders.
Where do they go?
The stranger water streams and layers
Cannot talk about the old deals
That rose tree had with earlier ones.
A question that keeps it busy
Day and night..
That splendid pink bud,
Stretched curves on rocks
Shadowed the valley in pink
When it bowed to stream
When it agreed to un-branch
Where did they take it?
That bud, that crossed thirty petals
When it chose to shatter
When it filled hilly streams with
Red, pink and white
Rose tree watched it with a happy heart
Thinking where it goes..
In aspirations to reach to wonderland
They all bloomed
What happens to them all?
Did they meet what they meant for?
Wondered the rose tree
One stormy night
It loosened its grip in the soil and rocks
It flew with streams
In search of the petals the roses
And all those streams it spoke with
Strangers, the streams took it
Up and down they shook it
Aghast it lost its senses
To the plain it kept repeating
After all shocks and thud
With water, soil, rock and mud
It still remained alive
Till the time
When it was dropping from a long hill
In the lap of deep stream
It watched the field of hopes
Full of thousand little roses
It closed its eyes
In several years
All went to the right place.
Over the years
Rose tree never realized
The petals and the seeds
They all went down to the fertile land
And grew up plants
and trees there
And turned the whole land pink
The whole life it dreamt of a wonderland
That wasn’t there
Yet even in its most beautiful imagination
In its most positive energies
In pure, innocence, potentiality
And the seeds met soil and water
The river shore was turned into
A beautiful rose bed
A rose tree’s wonderland.