Rose Poem by RAJAT GHOSH

When the worthless war will be won at last
The two would fail to hold hands fast,
He is a Soldier, and his 'Rose' is ready to bloom...
And then do come the day of doom...!

On flowery death-bed,
The 'Rose' is like blood-soaked beauty upon his head,
O don't disturb her,
Her would-be is martyred soldier...!

Some day when the war will end after massacre
And two leaders would shake hands together
Will not the dried Rose then cry for her lost Soldier?

How many roses do wither in winter's battle garden?
None to care, as it is not the Nation's leader's burden!