Roses are red

I can remember the first time I was taught roses are red… rhyme,I was 2feet 2inch with red cheeks and curious eyes filled with loads of questions and not a hint of worry in me and the poem went as ;

Roses are red ,

Violet’s are blue ,

The honey is sweet and so are you.

As time stretched it took me with it making me face the depth of tragedies and silence and I remember the same rhyme but this time I interpret it differently as;

Roses are red ,

Violet’s are blue ,

I mind my own business ,why don’t you?

In the tune of time I encountered immense love,gratitude and faith but also lost myself to the suffering of losing all of it.

You see time takes from you what it gives and as it turns out in my case it had given me everything so it had the right to take everything away from me and I remember the rose poem but in a different way this time as;

Roses are fake and

Love is  dead

Weddings are just funeral with cakes.

As I’m torremented by the past and stripped out of happiness in the present I’m not moving forward but enjoying my sadness staying behind and I remember someone saying to me that;

Roses are red ,

Violet’s are blue ,

Whatever comes next , depends on you.

It is true that there are no beautiful surfaces without terrible depth nor a cloud without a silver lining and in darkness all you have to do is turn on the lights so, actually it turns out to me in my death bed that all this time;

 Roses were red ,

Violet’s were blue ,

I was colour blind and

What about you?