A dead rose

The rose still prevails in the leaves of my diary……

It makes me sense your perfume….

It makes me heed your tune….

I wonder how could it remain????              In those incessant droughts and frosts…

I am still waiting…..                                                 Though I am aware of the fact that you are a far cry for me…..

But somewhere in my crux the rose lingers, trying to save the dilapidated fire of love, for it knows that love is beyond the power of divine……