On a busy street
In a corner retreat
A lonely rose stood
With drooping leaves.
In an old painted pot
Half broken apart
It stood
As it should.
Two tiny dirty hands
Of a neighbouring door
From a leaking tap
Fed water in many trips
It drank in slowly
No greed, No hurry
Yet thirsty rose
Smiled gratefully
Like no poem ever spoke
In turn a smile broke
It’s the song
Of the cradle of life.
Mothers went by
Fathers drove by
Brothers, sisters
No friend ever stopped by.
Only sun shined over
Rarely a young lover
Sometimes at dawn break
A happy butterfly.
Even after its petals whither
For one more and another
Those two bare feet
Will run back fetching water.
With time when innocence dies
And ambitions grow high
Who will care to care?
Another two tiny dirty hands!
