A Dried Rose

a little step why didn’t we take

I had taken though but you not.

the words are mere now so I can scrape them

but what of the feelings that I feel then & now, sometimes & often…

another poem I can write thinking of you

but I do not want to…you know why…

because the poem will not have a soul 

it will just have the soporific dragged-on thoughts–

of how much am in need of warmth of love

of how much I am still in love with you…

it becomes a monotonous tune like crickets call,–

it becomes one of the dried darkened roses in a China vase…



Author: Sangbad

A published poet. Avid Reader. Favorite authors (few) are Satyajit Ray, Saradindu Bandyopadhyay, Bankim Ch. Chatterjee, Jhumpa Lahiri, O. Henry, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, etc. Music lovers. Love to hear Rabrinda Sangeet, Anjan Dutt, Enrique Iglesias, Mozart & Beethoven (though can't say which is who's symphony). Dislike to get clicked. Love to be self (introvert).

40 thoughts on “A Dried Rose”

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