The Bloom Of a New Rose

Life of mother and son
Source: Pinterest.com



Our garden once bloomed with roses
And the butterflies came along
I could still see him as he dozes
Whenever I sing a bedtime song.

Over there, his giggles would echo
As his small feet raced down the hall.
He usually would play in the meadow.
Chasing butterflies as he falls.

Soon, the garden grew tired of colours
And the butterflies died in the war.
Often the neighbours would come to see us
And tell us how wonderful a kid he was.

Sour turned our juicy mandarin wine
For in agony and pain our only rose lay.
My plea to birth old age has declined.
In dismay shall I spend the rest of my days?

A helpless woman, to the sky I gazed
For a couple of months and still no cue.
Hopes were the bloom on my withered face,
But the last of them were falling like dew.

Nauseous, I felt a smirk on the face of death.
But the doctor assured he was nowhere near-
He strongly advised that I shouldn't fret
Lest my baby girl return out of fear.

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