There she was…
The rose, elegantly placed,
With unexplainable beauty embraced.
Overwhelming from outside,
Shining from within.
The freshness of the morning dew,
Enchanting and glittering…
Touching a few?
The rose, knowing nothing sensing none.
The honey bird - attracted by the rose -
Compelled to get near.
But thorns of uncertainty,
Scents of enigma,
Causes the timid young honey bird
Delay the break of the barrier.
The beak of the honey bird
Nearing the domain of the rose,
But the barrier, still there.
The honey bird,
Tentatively trying to tear away the timidness…
But alas, still afraid to harm, to scare away.
The rose, still silent, still being…
Unaware the uncertainty,
The shyness of bird.
Should the bird try to acquaint,
Or should be a restraint,
Will the rose stagger back,
It’s thorns ready, ready to…