Behold the flowers spoke…

Indeed, a tale unknown…

Competing with a pair of delicate eyes…

Subtle colours of marigold rocking the cot…

With its fragile curtains peeking to soft cries…

And a glimpse of a mother and her affectionate knot…

The scent of her jasmine luring all folk….

For she would never leave the baby alone…

Behold the flowers spoke…

Indeed, a tale unknown…

Threads weaving fragrant anecdotes of loud memories all mute…

Rose, chrysanthemum, taking alternate turns…

The white silent canvas now had a spec of colourful tribute…

Blazed a fire without the help of ferns…

The same flower that made perfume, now makes smoke…

As it liberates a man of his mortal loan…

Behold the flowers spoke…

Indeed, a tale unknown…

As they watch a man approach and guess his request…

A bouquet, a garland or petals, what will I be?

Will I be embraced in arms or will I be laid to rest?

For each story of a man, has a place for me…

Glory to my lord to make a flower evoke…

The past, present and future all on its own…