Black Rose

In the chills of the early spring

Amidst all flowers – red, blue and pink,

There blooms a rose that is oh, so black

With a fate so doomed and a future dark.

Little kids playfully, pluck the flowers in mirth

And curse the black rose, for their thorns hurt.

But don’t they know all the roses have thorns!

Alas, they see all this – fault of this cursed one.

Lovers and friends adore roses of all kinds

But forbidden is the one that is pitch black,

As no one cares to feel its divine fragrance, but

All they know of it is – “That symbol of bad luck.”

The nightingale – a friend in need indeed

Inspired by Oscar Wilde’s petty fleet

Set its heart bare to erase the colours of Fate

And to re paint the black rose all red.

The black rose cried, the nightingale bled

Till the last drop was soaked in the black rose stem

But now there is a dead heart, completely dry

And the condemned black rose still stands without friends for life.

-Vaisakhi Mishra