White Tulips.

Published August 23, 2014 by Shreya Rajvanshi

He holds in his hands,
A bouquet of white tulips.
Fresh, new, soft and beautiful.
White tulips were her favourite,
They made her feel pretty,
Special and incredible.
She used to wear them in her hair,
Hold them in her hands,
Look at them for hours and hours.
She didn’t blush like the rose or
Shy away like Touch Me Not or
Shine bright like a sunflower.
The tulips reminded him of her,
Gorgeous, soothing, a sight to behold,
The touch, he used to crave.
He crouched down on his knees,
Silently mourning quietly,
He placed the white tulips on her grave.


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