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

" Poltroon " she cried,

While her knuckles were white with rage.
Perturbed,  she was while her father passed away.

Solitude, she chose while earthlings left her dejected, like a stray.

Erratic, were those times when she decided to unravel the intricate stories of life and not get bewrayed.

Lost, she was in the absolute beauty of the cosmos waiting for someone at the bay.

Soon, she realized that a lifeboat would never come her way.

" You're a stalwart , get up and find your own way ".

Much did she know, rest she deciphered.

And found herself flying in the sky of aplomb,  like a mockinjay!

                                        - Swasti Jain