Tuesday, 16 July 2013


Who knows better 
than a  rose 
smiles on lips always 
even leaves around in tatter 
with green pricking  thorns 
never abhor them  
and doesn't beseech for softness
even in deep melancholy
keeps on spreading  its fine fragrance
and grandeur of beauty  to holy and unholy  
with same velvet touch 
like mother's couch.

(C) Ramkishore Upadhyay 

No comments:

Post a Comment