I have stopped buying Red Roses
There was a time when I believed in the tale
That red roses meant Love
But I soon realized that red was also the colour of blood
That which was shed to keep up the façade of love
I realized that the pumping of foreign fertilizers
Made the roses huge but bereft of scent
Now when I see red roses
I see the blood of the millions who died
Waiting for the New Dawn which never came.
I love Orange Roses these days
The mild colour and the soft petals with the faint scent
Remind me of the rising Sun, gently bestowing light after the darkness
Its petals are attached to the green stalk
Giving the stalk a purpose
Without the petals, the stalk would just be a stick
Draw no admirers and be thrown around
And the white pollen, which draws the bees and butterflies to it
Would become just dust without any attention
If the petals were separated from it
The brown or green thorns
Which many love to hate for its incisive nature
Protect the rose and inseparable they are.
But what is this?
When I gather the roses and
Try to put them in a vase together
The green leaves occupy so much space
Suck all the nutrition in the water
Without adding to the value of the orange roses
I decided to cut them out and dump them
I prefer to have the roses live longer
Thorns, stalk, pollen and all
Without the leaves encroaching on the space
And when the roses droop, I’d love to
Store the petals with reverence
In the books of Time
But I’ve stopped falling for Red Roses
Which put up a show of Love
But draw blood surreptitiously.
Discussion about this post