I being a flower in a garden
Have no concern of blowing winds
They could only let my petal detach
But I could grow them again
For I am still the part of plant
With it’s root in the soil
I with my beautiful colour
Attract the butterflies to take rest
Listening their stories of sky
Where they fly, searching for me
Not fearful of merciless shower
From the clouds thundering in heaven
I being used to such ruthless roars
Now enjoying them as unsung songs
Gifted by dew drops every night
Becomes source of mercy to me
Satifying the thirst out of tiresome
Being burning for day under the sun

Untill the gardener is caring and honest
I am not afraid of any natural calamity
As I know how to rise and grow again
If the gardener would become corrupt
Then the man to whom I am fearful
Fearful of his desire, fearful of his vices
Would bring ruins to this garden

I being a flower in a garden
Garden of bees and butterflies….

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