Within the dusty pages of an ancient tome,
A faded rose, its petals still softly loom.
A relic of time, a memory preserved,
In the quiet corners where stories are observed.
Once vibrant and alive, now preserved in time,
A symbol of love, frozen in its prime.
Though its fragrance has long since faded away,
In its delicate form, memories forever stay.
With each delicate petal, a tale is spun,
Of moments shared beneath the golden sun.
Of whispered promises and vows unseen,
In the petals of the rose, love’s echo keen.
Though time may pass and memories fade,
In the pages of the book, they’re forever displayed.
For even an old rose, found in a forgotten nook,
Can bring back memories, unspoken and unheard.
Srijata is a budding poet and acclaimed painter
