ALSphere Foundation
The withered rose,
Still beautiful as a prose,
The mere reason it bloomed,
Was to spread beauty,
before it was doomed,
It’s ambrosial fragrance,
Proved its divine existence,
The rose that once rose to fame,
Simply because of its name,
Is now dry and shriveled,
With wind it once swivelled,
It’s soft velvety petals,
On which morning dew once settled,
Was as ethereal,
As royalty imperial,
That rose even after withering,
Served the purpose and meaning
Of its existence,
By spreading the message of love and kindness
