Like a rose…

Like a rose,

We sprout forth,

Emerge from

Our Mother, Earth.

Sometimes, We shimmer

under the bright sun,

Our gentle fragrance

emanates from all around.

But one day, near the end

of our short lives,

We find ourselves aged-

We have withered…

It’s all but

a short dream.

And just like that,

We are gone.

Anoush Krikorian, 1994