From all the tears that once flowed rose roses I picked one at a time daily.
And every day I remembered the roses had thorns on them, but for their beauty, I forget every time …
I picked a white rose for the first time that thorns have not yet reached his purity and mirrored in my life. I picked a red rose then, without my garden there would have not remained the same. Then I understood what love meant and everything when I met him. Without my wish, I felt on the third rose with yellow petals which were shaking in my hand one by one in search of love’s fallen in vain.
I felt the rose with transparent petals shaking, and each petal fall one by one like tears. I tried in vain to find in the hige garden a rose because they were withered.
Then I picked the last without wanting , a violet rose which was not yet wilting. Just a hurried petal slipped thrown to seal our separation.
Now the garden is empty and the wind is running from one end to another to give the tab sheets of my life one by one and to sweep the fallen petals.
