Flowers always look lovely in their bloom,
Their delicate branches bear their load happily,
The plants that yield those beautiful buds,
Feel the proud to be the source of such soothing sight,
But when they wither the plants leave them to scatter,
The branches shed off the unpleasant beings,
No one bothers for those ugly looking dried petals,
Don’t they give a signal to those who go for the similar fate?
Our life is flower like, pretty, pleasant and attractive,
We bloom and blossom like flowers during the prime of our life,
Forgetting the impending trouble and tribulations we are to face,
At the end we all have to undergo the bitter trial of OLD AGE.
This poem was written/submitted by jyotipatil.