ALSphere Foundation
Sometimes, love dies like wilting flowers,
The aroma and the beauty wither,
That candle, which was supposed to illuminate,
Is about to burn out and extinguish.
The future, which she dreamt of,
Sometimes, it fades into the distant past,
Those eyes, which were supposed to shine,
Sometimes, it droops to hide the anguish.
Those hands, which once promised to hold mine,
Are taken away miserably,
That hug and kiss, once planted,
Are nowhere to see.
She tries hard to hold on to everything she has,
But her cries go unheard,
She feels her chest tightening,
And discomfort.
She is lost in the crowd,
With bitter tears in her eyes,
She is just like a wilted flower,
Which was sold to the ragman along with the treatise.
