There was a flower, blossoming on the shoreline. Beholding the serenity of the seas and criticising the rise and fall of the indomitable tides.
It swayed in the balmy air and loathed the dusty storms.
It adored the sun's radiance and mourned the moon's norms.
It extolled the aesthetics and execrated the wrongs.
It denied the nectar but appreciated the honeycomb.
There was a peyote, living in the dreary sands. Mesmerized by the great dunes, standing like a tomb.
Relishing the scanty rains with much aplomb.
It grows its roots in the search of water, many call it a coxcomb.
Such is the folk, unaware of the real beauty for so long!
- Swasti Jain
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 11:02 AM UTC
There was a flower, blossoming on the shoreline. Beholding the serenity of the seas and criticising the rise and fall of the indomitable tides.
It swayed in the balmy air and loathed the dusty storms.
It adored the sun's radiance and mourned the moon's norms.
It extolled the aesthetics and execrated the wrongs.
It denied the nectar but appreciated the honeycomb.
There was a peyote, living in the dreary sands. Mesmerized by the great dunes, standing like a tomb.
Relishing the scanty rains with much aplomb.
It grows its roots in the search of water, many call it a coxcomb.
Such is the folk, unaware of the real beauty for so long!
- Swasti Jain
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