A flower when full,
Gives a lovely view,
Without light and food,
A flower leaves all hue,
And it also is a picture,
Of me, without you....
An old news it sure is,
I know it looks not new.
And so, even now, after when this mind has turned into a barren land of bewilderment and after when this heart has become a silent desert of dried wishes, I keep some flowers inside though withered, they still have color, they still are perfumy.