Know its purpose in this planet
Does it know that it is fragrant,
Colourful and attractive
A beauteous sight to behold?
Does it listen to the poets
sing its praises and bask in pleasure?
Does it feel the unfairness of
The bees, birds and butterflies
usurping the nectar that
it worked hard to produce?
Does it feel the pain of the scorching
sun, shining upon it, making it shrivel up
if too much?
Does it vow to stop doing its duty,
as the world around it seems bent
on cruelly plucking its baby buds,
leaves and at times body?
Does it show envy on a rival
flower and seek to outdo it by
becoming something it isn't?
Yet the flower feels,
yet the flower knows,
that what happens does happen with no pause
It goes about, day in day out
Doing its duty selflessly
Being a source of nourishment,
care and hope
Alive on its stem or dead among the leaves.