My lady

Last eight nights,
like some petals of
a folded rose,
saved in a notebook,
i lied near her.

As two strings coupled,
my heartbeats
that never echoed,
were scrabbled
on her pages,
just like a
distant sad song
of the reaper
that died long ago.

If it was just
the ashes,
Then what brought
back life into
that rose
which died
decade before?

if there was
a thorn earlier,
then why did
my lady
shed a tear
to make me whole?


the rose has bloomed from the dead petals
and is alive now.Does it means,it has
to go away from the notebook,
leave away her home? for if you ask her,
she prefers to be just
broken petals rather.

If you say the rose is alive? why kill it again? why ask her to leave that notebook which was always her home?