Out of dust Nature's magic gives him birth
The flower is no doubt the pride of Earth.
It can be called the gift of heaven
It blooms almost for days sevrn.
The virgin bud wrapps its pretty face
It seems to hide a matchless grace.
Slowly the shame's sense shatters
Petals take a yawn and scatter.
Youth wears the crown of honor
And he becomes a great donor.
He gives in charity sweet smell
The Air applauds well done, well!
The leaves serve him like public
And thorns guard his acts heroic.
Some days kingship siks at last
And the winds blow hard and fast.
Petals commit treachery and fall
No one comes for help at his call.
Misery becomes the hard fate
That is to fall without any late.
He feels for himself a deep hate
Blank seems once again life's slate.
Humbleness like dust comes again
From embracing her he can't refrain.
From dust to dust the cycle completes
This miracle the magicain often repeats.
Prof Niamat Ali Murtazai
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/flower-s-life/
