by Mohit Khanna
O my yellow rose, O the tender one.
I want to caress you, hold you, kiss you, feel your bloom.
I want to smell you, shake the due drops.
I am scared; the process might hurt you, or else I might lose you.
So I prefer to look at you.
But my looks make you shy,
I don't know how hard I try, the stare, the ogle or the platonic eye .
some how all makes you dry.
I skip a sigh and start questioning my soul.
Pin my vain and the blood starts to pour.
You soak all of it with cherished smile
Bloom again and tilt a side.
I put my hand and you kneel on it
Ignoring the world and its rite
You give me love, I long for it.
(Mohit Khanna is a Ludhiana based Journalist with The Tribune.)
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