plumeria

If you love a flower, don’t pick it up.
Because if you pick it up it dies and it ceases to be what you love.
So if you love a flower, let it be.
Love is not about possession.
Love is about appreciation.

Instead .....
I pick up flowers that are
Strewn across by whistling breeze 
Some are entangled in grass 
Some are waiting to crushed 

They have a life and have a smile too
Silly breeze , smiles too 
But these flowers are 
The Purest Beauty,
The mesmerising fragrance,
My favourite plumeria 

The gorgeous yellow colour, 
That once was, and still is
With brown spots showing their shiny 

Youthfulness May have gone 
Vanished but vanquished 

No one may care
No one may loves,
No one may touche

But I do ...
I gather them with gratitude 
Put them in water with dignity 
For them to relish the cool Environ 
Life is like that,
You are loved,
Till you ’Matter,’
But after that too
It does matter to those
Who matter

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