Hustling through the crowd, I fling my heavy bag burdened on my shoulder, onto my bus seat, and as I try to reach my spot,

I hear my name on the lips of the crowd; a kid at the far end holding a beautiful red rose blossom, so bright , it shone, for me through her hands it was caught.

Envious eyes trailing the red bloom, passed through the other fingers, to me it reached its full splendor.

When I rack my brains poring over a textbook, you waltz into the class, holding another blossom so scarlet, making me wonder,

About your train of thought on the sight of the burgundy bloom, flavored with my eyes, your mind, subconsciously reach for those petals.

On our date, when the morning dew still hung onto the grass blades, and the early birds sang their lullabies, the airs before it settles,

You rush to the shop with fragrances wafting around, lavender, lilies, orchids and all other kinds of buds, you choose;

Roses; the color of a sunset so beautiful, blending to color of a winter sky, with shades of pink, fuchsia, converging from maraschino to cantaloupe.

Honeydew Aurora to bright gold, were the roses you presented on our second anniversary, to my delight,

For flowers gifted to a lady from her man, was a luxury I would have never dreamed for myself; much less with roses, to be precise.

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