The Envy of the Roses

Her eyes are closed so softly,
As snow falls uninhibited,
Covering her torso with all of their heavenly flakes,
Gently kissing her cold face,
Tucking her in a blanket of pristine white,
As if they owe her their very existence,

Akin to the crescent moon finally waxing,
Glimmers of its iridescent moonlight passing,
Past branches of trees,
And the leaves precariously hanging,
Past the highest mountains,
And deepest valleys,
Just to shine on her ever-radiant face,

And enamored are the roses too,
That lay loyally by her side,
Envying her unmitigated beauty,
As they bloom six feet under,
Accompanying her forevermore.

Aryan Raj Dhawan