A hundred flowers bloomed
One was born to sigh
A hundred faces smiled
One destined to cry
Its fragrance was the sweetest
Its color was the best
Without any attempt
It out-shadowed the rest.
A razzling, dazzling flower
Graceful but morose
Slender and quite dainty
It out-rivalled the rose
It danced with the wind
And sparkled in the sun
In its pristine purity
It could be compared with none..
An ugly hand snatched it
The pretty flower paled
It strove to retain youth
It tried and tried, but failed
It adorned a pretty head
Its beauty could not survive
For not in that hairy jungle
Was it destined to thrive..
The beauty of the tribe
Cried for its lost days
Even in its sorrow
It drooped with such grace
And when it withered away
A hand away it threw
And the pretty, lovely flower
Was trodden by a shoe!!
The lovely, lovely flower, that was destined to cry
Gave a final fragrance before its final sigh.