When those flowers and leaves
Withered from its branch
I know how the trunk felt
For so long under the Sun
Carrying the shame of someone else
Of love and lust they
Once had with tempting fragrance
When the bees were flirting
I know how the rose turned Red with shy.
Now every day in and day out
I couldn’t stand the sight
Of the remaining becoming graveyard.
It is the ‘deep root’ed
Think called Love
Wandering in its dream
Imagining life of its own
Believing things are in respective place.
Making someone’s shame on other
Beautiful from its unseen world
When perspective changes
From its roots to trunk to branches
To leaves to flower