I was waiting,
For my prince
Who put a ring on my finger,
In a dream at dawn.
I was at the window side,
And I saw roses are more red,
In my garden full of flowers.
As the time went on,
I was still at the window side,
And still dreaming my prince.
The flowers in my garden are doomed;
But still there is a rose...
And it is red much as early
(Like my hope)
.
.
Athul R T
"every piece of literature has a story of human life to tell. As this poem says so"
