The Rose That Dropped

Synopsis:

First of its kind from my pen, this poem is a blend of three stories (happening simultaneously) from a youth's point of view.
1. It is about him admiring a girl from the opposite side of a crossroad, with whom he has had no word in person.
2. It is a little bird's struggle to fly that the boy observes while he is standing on the other side of the road.
3. Two shops next to him a man is being accused by his wife for cheating her.

The poem is phrased in 8-paragraphs, the first 6 containing the above three listed stories in a one-time repetition. The second last para (7th para) is a blend of all three stories, trying to reach an ending. The last para beautifully summarises it.

I hope, with this basic introduction, it shall become easy for you to comprehend the composition.
Happy reading!


Title:

I couldn't think of any suitable title for this composition, for I had not thought about what to write before writing, (it just kept happening). So I give you the authority to give it a suitable title, once you finish reading it. Post it in in the comment box at the end of this page. For the time being let's call it:


The Rose That Dropped



A busy crossroad and the cacophony of passing cars,
As always she was there, so close on earth yet infinitely far like on Mars.
Her wet hair dripping water drop by drop,
So vehemently my emotions swayed the love-crop.
She would seldom look up in bits and chunks,
Her fingers penning circles and feet thumping to English punks.
It was a moment of solitude when the eyes met,
Like a dry sooting throat suddenly turning wet.


On the same building behind her a little bird was trying to fly,
Dropping and falling at every leap, yet determined to rule the sky.
It chirped and cried but stood back again,
To try another leap, it unstoppably ran.
Above it an eagle hopefully hovered and perched,
But to her defence the mother bird devotedly lurched.
Falls after falls could not break her will to fly,
Every now and then to another failure the little bird would give a try.


Two shops next to me a lady accused her husband loud and bold,
By no good means, or pleas would she stop or hold.
Their little son all bored and confused,
In the middle of a crossroad all passer-bys they amused.
With her blabbering I deciphered it was all about an extramarital affair,
His shifted priorities, an 'illegal' son, and an undecided heir.
Like the scorching sun's heat she was raging and furious,
And to know her whereabouts she was curious.


She looked up and our eyes met once again,
Once in a while, for hours at a stretch, this is how our chemistry ran.
With smiles not hinting as smiles and blushes without a swell,
Our seemingly shallow aquifer, but indeed a deep down well.
Her big white eyes, a fair face with a mole on the upper lip,
That pointed nose and the curl of hair to which I would often slip.
Sooner than usual today, she just stood up and went inside,
An all of a sudden decision, an unpredictable emotion or perhaps some wrong doing from my side.


Half an hour passed, and the mother bird now engaged in renovating the nest,
The eagle seemed missing, and the little birdie giving her best possible test.
Little flights she could now make, but yet imperfection towed her wings,
To cloud her failures, in between the mother bird so melodiously sings.
She would come to the brim again and give it a little push,
A meter's flight hardly or just a little swoosh.
She climbs back and jumps again in a cycle of repetitions,
With never falling hopes and determined resolutions.


She started crying and bursted in loud hiccups,
An observing crowd gathered in swift pick-ups.
The commotion thickened and curious onlookers kept gathering,
He kept insisting and pleading, and the child's eyes between them battering.
He went down on his knees and joined his hands,
His head bowed and rough pleas emanated from his dry glands.
Onlooking men sympathised and women loathed his circumstances,
Shattered was he like a mundane tree with no leaves and nests but only branches.


Curling her tufts with her index-finger she came out once again,
Perched to the rail and with her eyes on me she down-poured a torrent of dry-rain.
I was still buoyant and mesmerised, and she dropped down a red rose,
Smilingly she turned back and walked away but my heart froze.
Amidst the muffled chirrups, a pair of wings fluttered,
The little bird flew unceasingly and a victory praise its mother uttered.
In an overwhelming state the lady wiped her husband's tears,
His eyes spoke of forgiveness and her emotional smile neutralised his fears.


She looked at me with a stealing glance as I picked up her first gift,
High in the sky the bird flew, swaying and swift.
He hugged her wife back and the crowd dispersed,
He laughed loudly when in his ears something she whispered.



Thank you:

I hope you enjoyed reading it, so just take out a moment to put in a comment below. :)