||That heartless creature has no pity.
We are rendered homeless,
But we are determined and
Again we fly to the city.
Such is our life, the life of honey bees,
Buzzing and buzzing away to glory.
Anupreet Kaur Paik
I COULD never understand,
the value of a quiet existence.
The worn out, wrinkled hands of my mother,
always irked me.
She occupied a tiny place on earth,
making airy spaces for others.
So that they breathe freely,
happily, floating like petals of a flower.
While she remained a root
of the flowering plant.
Its my turn now, to take root,
in a garden..... for away.
Searching, making way, huddling into my own little place.
HOW radiant is the rose,
What a charming flower!
Everyone falls in love with it,
In seconds and not in hours.
It has the best shape and grace,
Of all the flowers in the fields.
Attracts the onlookers towards its face,
Captivating them with the aroma it yields.
Matchless is its beauty,
And matchless is its face.
It is the king of flowers,
One cannot say less in its praise.
When plucked and thrown here and there,
Its bloom departs and gloom descend.
Looses its grandeur and goes in despair,
The life of the king thus comes to an end.