"Wind moves in her mighty way;
Plucking along the flowers so gay.
Red,Green,Yellow and blue;
Flowers singing mellow tune as they flew.

Mountain, River,Plateau and plain;
Flower flying above them as they compete the slowing train.
Purple,White,Black and Grey,
Flowers mesmerizing people as they fly away.

Flying as they land on a park's bench;
Rainfall making them all drench.
Silver,Pink,Violet and brown,
'what if I make them in a crown?'

Says the girl who picks them all;
Not letting any single of them fall.
And as their journey came to an end,
They all adorned the girl's head as a new trend.