A String Of Love
A String Of Love
Those artificial flowers;
Lament in pain,
They fill the aesthetics, but in vain;
Fail to spread aroma, fragrances,
The glory with presence fades;
Day by day, guest for a while.
One day they are thrown out,
They are recycled, no memoir,
They are, their own praiser;
No decay, no fear of being hurt!
They are lovely, though filled with dirt ..
They're spared, they're untouched;
Only people consume the beauty,
They're willing to serve those eyes!
At night they whisper, hiding doom;
Silently; hiding desires;
Silently they bloom ..