The flower must left fragrance,
Did it itself smell?
It was full of patience,
Put pluckers into hell.
Of course! It effloresced,
But didn't bloom cheerfully.
Sometime hurt, sometime forced,
It never cried loudly.
Eventually departure reached,
Died with full of emotions.
Pluckers get cursed,
By generations after generations.
The Flower
Azanum Bhat
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 01/21/2019
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Poem topics: flower, never, smell, patience, bloom, departure, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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