Roses are Red

The rose looks out of a little girl’s hand,
A twist and a turn, and spots a wedding band.
Another pirouette, a second looked away,
She’s sitting in a coffin, being carried away.

A blink and a glance, and the rose looks again
To see flashing lights, a rock band on stage
A step to the right, and a step to the left,
Ends up tucked in the hair of a poet so bereft.

A jump and a hop, back in a little girl’s hand,
This time, a lathi charge, a big bad man.
Looks up and down, and twists round and around,
Gets trampled under the feet of the fleeing crowd.