The Sweet Flower

Sweet Flower

Fresh bloom of a June morning

Appeared in the middle of my front garden

Like a gift from from god singing

And winking like close friend of mine

I sat many mornings so close

To share love that I held so dear

I was jealous of those bees

And dews with love so pure

This flower just rose from nowhere

For I never seen it before

It begun as a small green stem

Afterwards it became a bloom

My friend wasn't a wildflower

With exotic fragrance and color

Nor a noble garden nymph

A poet celebrate in an epitaph

For simple was its smell

And humble was its gradience

There were no more graceful flower in my eyes

In all place I ever seen

Storms are scary indeed

A stormy night a gave way for mourning 

My friend was laying lifeless in mud

When I came near another morning

Evenings, I gaze through my window

In a hope to see a glimpse of storm

It would bring my friend from a meadow

It took once away from my home.