Black Roses

I was walking all alone in the night,
The streets were empty with no one in sight.
I walked, I walked with no thought,
With the roses I had just bought.

The rain was pouring down on me,
Making the way ahead blurry to see.
The raindrops trickled down my sleeves,
Pouring onto the flowers & leaves.

The drama’s theme was all dark,
The night was about to leave a mark.
I knew I did not have the guts to look back,
Hence, the roses were not red but black.

Same as the clothes I was wearing,
The roses also represented my mourning.
None of the flowers that came were so,
But their grief was not similar to show.


Though all of them did reach the grave,
But my black roses were not so brave.
My roses were sure stared by them,
But I knew that black roses were loved by him.

The only one who found beauty in black,
Was now gone never to come back.
The last image that I had of him,
Filled my eyes upto the brim.

The last thought of him that I had in mind,
Had his silhouette a little sublimed.
He was walking with his back towards me,
And the rain, on that day too made it hard to see.

He walked away with the same in hand,
That today I could not just unhand.
He walked away with roses tied in a pack,
That day too the roses were black.