To the Rose
I entrusted my worries
hoping they will be safe from the all thorns

To the Rose
I poured out the color of my blue heart
thinking if it may change its red bud

To the Rose
I admitted my secrets
about the life of mine,
the heart of mine
wishing they are all safe from the the rushing wind

Then the Rose-liked thing laughed at me
saying there must be misunderstanding in me
since Rose isn't Rose without thorns,
and its bud won't change color for centuries,
and Rose won't be fragrant without the rushing wind!

I wondered:
to whom had I entrusted "me"?



Bandung, 7 November 2010