It fades with time,
It dies with the season,
The blazing heat of the sun
scorches it,
It loses its bloom and beauty,
With this, he wasn’t pleased,
He believes it should
stand up to the weather,
He believes it should
stand the test of time,
He thought of a material,
One that could last
an ocean length of time,
The smell of iron petals
filled the room,
Its metallic aroma
diffused the space,
An eternal rose,
Undying and unending he made,
He sang songs
in praise of Its significance,
The craftsman’s song,
A song of hope,
A song of faith,
In a dark and dreary world.
He is a poet of many colours.