THE GRAVE DON'T SMELL ROSES (ARTICLE)

** THE GRAVE DON'T SMELL ROSES **

So your friend is dead and buried!

You head to the shopping mall and find you the most fragrant rose money can buy.

You adorn yourself in eerily dark sunglasses and black grieving garment. Rose in hand, you go to visit the grave.

Your friend's cold ears hears your approaching footsteps and weeps in his home six feet below.

Because, when he daily courted the breath of life, he cared for and about you.

He held your hand even when his fingers hurt from the weariness of the day's hustle.

He gave you treasures of affection out of a pocket of lack.

You kept him awake with your midnight gibberish. He lent an ear to you, that you may unburden your deepest troubles.

His heart pains came out as laughter just to make you smile.

In 365 days, His phone had 236 of your received calls while your phone had 65 of his missed calls.

You forgot his birthday, he forgave, didn't pick his calls, he forgave, didn't visit him in the hospital, yet, he forgave.

From his dying bed, he reached out to you, but you were too busy.

Now you bring a rose soaked in crocodile tears to his grave?

Do you not know?

THE GRAVE DON'T SMELL ROSES.

Note: Call your true friends today. Tell them you love them. Say thank you.

Bring them roses, while their noses still pulsate with the breath of life.

KUNLE OMOPE

Photo from google.com