Ink for my Rose

 Ink for my Rose

When I started penning down a song about you, my mind was as blank as the paper before me. But once I closed my eyes to recall those wonderful moments we shared, I opened them to find a newfound poet within.

I wrote the first word, "Sweetheart," and my heart said, "Go ahead," while my brain whispered, "Don't worry, I’ll guide you." The poet in me spoke up, "She is not your sweetheart—she is your heart." My heart agreed, and my brain smiled, saying, "Here, thoughts are the blood that flows through my mind."

When I tried to describe you further, my pen was at a loss. My eyes told it, "The ink in you is not enough to capture her beauty." My pen took that as a challenge and declared, "I will describe her more than anyone in this world—more than any poet who ever lived."

And so, my pen wrote: BREAKING NEWS— The word "beauty" has been replaced in all dictionaries with the word "Rose," which is your name and lives closest to my heart.

My eyes winked with a smile and said, "The poet behind this pen is not just a poet—he is a lover of rose."

My ears then challenged the pen: "You cannot describe the way she speaks." Ready again, the pen wrote: You are my Rose. Your presence speaks more than all the words in any dictionary. My ears replied, "That was poetic. The poet in you is not only an admirer of rose, but a listener of unspoken words, too."

"Is there anyone else who wishes to challenge me?" asked the pen. My heart said, "I am Rose—I will not." And my brain added, "Rose flows through me. Why would I?"

My lips spoke up: "Can you describe her lips?" Within seconds, the pen wrote: They are a home for nectar, elixir, and wine more divine than divinity itself. My lips smiled. "Tasty. The poet in you is an ace bartender." And the pen added: ...a slave to rosy lips.

"One last chance," said the pen. "Does anyone dare challenge me?" My legs stepped forward. "Walk with me to see the divine Rose." The pen stopped writing. The poet walked with his legs, placed a rose in symmetry, and said: Here is my Rose, resting in peace.

Tears welled in my eyes, sent by my brain. My heart poured feelings into choked-up words. And the poet said, "She is in me. I will live forever with her memories."

Then, a petal drifted close to the poet's face and whispered, "Live long, live healthy, live fully. I will wait for you. Heaven’s door is forever open for us to start afresh. I am your love, forever—Rose."

M.L. Narendra Kumar