There was a rock
beside that old oak tree.
A butterfly came,
kissed over its
weathered face,flew.
And--
there bloomed
a rose of love.
The rock, was a rock
by all its mean.
Mute, It stayed
over denudation.
The butterfly
has never come
since that day..
(for the little girl in my neighbourhood who had once asked me
to tell her a story about the rock..)
V@@S..
by all its mean.
Mute, It stayed
over denudation.
The butterfly
has never come
since that day..
(for the little girl in my neighbourhood who had once asked me
to tell her a story about the rock..)
V@@S..
Oh.. Oak tree has so much to offer but a rock remains a rock! just like a rose is a rose.
ReplyDeleteIt's just like a bed time story that always make sense.