Walking through the blooming flowers,
Seeing them sway and dance under the sun,
Enjoying their glistening and sparkly showers,
Having nothing except all the fun.
They become the epitome of someone in love,
They adorn the vase of a rich man’s home,
They are shared when there are confessions to come,
Or they are left at a special one’s deathly hove.
These flowers who unfold a new story everywhere,
They show all emotions of love and care,
They gleam and dazzle under the sky,
They bring a smile on a face, and rid the cry.
They hold a different value, a different thing they become,
For me they are some special beings, with a story to tell,
They share those stories and those pains of some,
They tell me about a smile that lit and a tear that fell.
They tell me about the one who wishes for love,
They tell me about the one whose kiss was lost,
They tell me about dreams and joys and sorrows,
They tell me that today’s gone and hope rises for morrow.
They tell me how they withstand all while they live,
They tell me how, after detached from their origin,
Yet they leave only when, to the world they give,
Their last tribute and complete their last mission.
Before they turn into a dried memory in a book,
Or a petal less stem whom the wind had shook.
And so ends the story of my beautiful flowers,
Whom I caress as I walk in their fields while they shower!