Black Rose

Mysterious, elusive, often misinterpreted yet the patience he bore to understand every layer, every thorn, every cell. He picked up the black one, understood the beauty in it or rather thought it unique.

Why was it unique to him? 

Was it because it truly was never original but in fact had to be groomed, and nurtured.

It had to fall, it had to be tested , tried till perfected?

I won't question why those hands reached out and picked up the mysterious, elusive and misinterpreted one but rather see the world through his eyes, be touched, nurtured and bloom, give a fragrance so rare that he shall be envied for it!

Reach places that have never been traveled, be sought for but never held by anyone but him alone.

Passion

There was once a girl, a feeling so to say,
that took my breath away and kept your heart here to stay.
She met every eye and every given soul,
she raced through my mind and fought through your own.

If you listen to her intently, you'll hear her in every note played,
If you her see her with precision, she's in every brush stroke out there,
If you feel her gently. she's in every mould made,
If you smell her after coffee, she's the in the fragrance so rare.

We yearn for her together; she's at our finger tips when we strum her,
She's on the glass that we paint, She's the voice from our lips,
She's the breath in the air.

And she sings, " Peekaboo, I found you again; hiding in the corner with your imaginary friend, and I'm here tonight to see this through till the end, C'oz I'll always be with you"

Robin at State Championship