
Image Credit: Pexels- Mary
Take these flowers, Rosanne,
Plant them at your doorstep when you reach paradise.
Water them till they grow,
Cause I don’t wanna miss you,
When I hear my own trumpet blows.
These flowers aren’t just flowers;
They are signs of your address.
So when I come to paradise in search of you,
Your whereabouts won’t give me stress.
Now that you have gone, Rosanne,
Aye, I fear for my poor heart!
I fear that cold shall haunt my body,
When the world walks about in slumbering nights.
I fear eating breakfast alone;
I’m sure I will miss those morning teasings.
At lunch, who will I ask to pass me the sauce?
Who will amuse me with that childlike chewing?
Now that you have gone, Rosanne,
Know that to die is not to be slain.
So remember to plant and water those flowers,
Till the day we meet again.
This was written by our contributing writer, Emmanuel Gleekia.

Leave a Reply