My Lost Rose

My lost rose,
In the gardens of love,
I searched her in my dreams,
Her one part was inside me, my heart,
And the other lost, displaced,
From its place,
In the space.

I am a lonely boy,
With a white rose in my hands,
Searching for a pink one,
Roaming from plant to plant,
Flower to flower,
Asking the birds,
The cuckoos don’t answer,
They just sing,
The song of love,
The song of desires.

I am a sad boy,
With no option,
With only one way,
I head towards it,
The path of rosy thorns,
Which protect the rose,
From being touched.

I walk on the thorns, like needles,
They pierce in me, my heart,
The red droplets, pure red,
Very precious, like ruby,
They fall on the white rose,
Which lay in my hands.

The white rose becomes a red one,
The child in me is somewhat happy,
To loose his blood,
To give it to the rose, still not pinkish.

The red turned white rose cries,
For the child,
For child’s love for the pink rose,
The tears dilute the red color,
The red color turns to pink.

The red rose becomes a pink one,
Pink- as desired by me, the child,
Pink- the color of childish love,
Pink- the color of my lost rose.