A Rose is a Rose.. is a Rose..

She sat there in the lonely park chair,
I just couldn’t avoid looking at her,
So very pretty, playing with her hair,
As if in turmoil, as if now, in one stir,

Her cell phone ringing, loud enough,
She wouldn’t pick, but just stare at,
Should I mind my own personal stuff,
I did hear her sobs, from where I sat,

It was very disturbing and unbearable,
Should I walk up to her now, or sit here,
Did something happen, just so terrible,
What if she bursts out then, which I fear,

A neat red skirt and the top, so bright,
Expensive handbag and a gold watch,
That glistened in that starry dark night,
She might kick, me loaded on scotch,

Her pale lips wouldn’t let a word slip,
The phone still rings, she won’t pick,
Smoke almost nearing that filter tip,
Drop it lady, do it now, be very quick,

The blood ridden, dark red fingernails,
The pink cheek, that turned even red,
Her appearance, did give me details,
Did you guess it, from what was said?

I still don’t have the courage to talk,
Of course, am an alien here, for a perk,
I can’t even ask her out, for one walk,
I didn’t want her to think of me, a jerk,

The bible next to her, flipped the pages,
That surprised me, as I continued staring,
One book that survived all the dark ages,
Others looked at, what she was wearing,

He came over and slapped her too hard,
Twisted both her hands, she screamed,
I looked around, tried to find one guard,
I didn’t expect it, I hadn’t even dreamed,

She was now crying aloud, in despair,
Everyone watched them, not moving,
As if they were aware of such an affair,
Whatever this cruel big beast was doing,

The struggle and fight lasted sometime,
Things falling from her bag, well strewn,
Lip sticks, eye liners, pins and few dime,
Brightly shown on that good full moon,

A cop came in now, dragged him along,
She was pleading to leave him, and crying,
She was acting strange, what was wrong ?
The cop left the place, warning.., sighing,

She lifted him over, all blood on his nose,
She wiped all that, hugged him, to hold,
Can you alter the sweet nature of a rose?
Women are women, all from one mould!

I just sat there, wondering if it was worth,
Why would women be warm, I’ve no clue,
Was it programmed in them from the birth,
Only they can answer, to convince me and you.