A flower in bloom
who cares -if thousands died.
You walked over it many a time
so what! Still it stands
head intact, smile broadened.
For every birth hundreds vanished
do I care?
I see all
a petal unfolds
a butterfly kisses
the colors float
and scents reign
somewhere someone plucks it
a petal falls
you are hurt?
But why look there!
Look here-
how its greenness- stares from grave,
how it gets on coolly.
This is the power of youth
blind to all miseries
all the sorrows and pains
may be with time
I can look them,
can cry with the mother
whose son have not returned.
May be with time,
I understand
I can feel.
True I will age,
yeah my skin will rot
bones will be soft,
eyes won’t see
and ears will fail me.
I know, if you come before me-
to recognise hard it will be,
but still! How can I be old?
Still loving you
I will be.