In so many different colors you come
In so many shapes
In so many places of the earth
Buds on thorn bushes
Or in stunted tree trunks

So many places you blossom
In the middle of the desert
On the neon lights
In dark alleys of Mumbai
Or in front of the temples
On noisy street corners
Where people spit

Your petals wilted
Darkened with the shoot
From the passing cars
You struggle to get away
From the ants and flies
Not inviting many monarch butterflies

Some times
I see you on TV here in America
Before and after effects
Of some one’s effort
To dust up your petals
Sprinkle the plant with little water
From the plenty they get
By showing your miseries again and again

Wild little flowers
You have no say
Where you rise
Where you blossom
Where you disappear
After bearing the seed
To perpetuate
The wild flowers of the paradise.
((*.*))
February 3, 2007