Monday, 20 October 2025

Sprinkled rose🌹

The smell of damp in your rosy air
As if, rain on dried mats of grassy hair
Love me as I love to watch myself soak
I've always been a water drop to sprinkled rose




1 comments:

Anonymous said...

Beneath your rain, I bloom once more,
Your touch—like dew the dawns adore.
If you are drops, then I’m the bloom,
That drinks your soul, dispelling gloom.

Let thunder roll, let rivers blend,
In every storm, our hearts ascend.
For love, like rain, will fall and flow—
Forever yours, the rose will grow.

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