Flowers have a short lived life but the scent it leaves behind in its trail is everlasting

The green grass  while carpeting the earth silently

does not seek any recognition or any attention

But we do appreciate and rejoice over its beauty

When buds blossom into flowers

There's no one to celebrate its birth

But  they live fully and feverishly and more forcefully

Their existence is brief but bright and glorious

Radiating fragrance and flaunting multi colour

Again no audience is stationed there to applaud..

Long after they are fallen from the trees

And crushed under the feet of humans,

They do not experience any fear or pain

What's the secret behind this glorious existence

It's all the secent that they release while being crushed

While breathing with Stoic smile on their death bed.

The secent lingers for a long time,

Even after they are gone.

They are nameless and faceless,

Homeless and do not crow about their nationality.

I want to live like this flower

Thank God ,from the centre stage,

And all limelight I am now a spectator

Observing events as they unfold..

Before I get folded  up into mother earth

Returning back to the only place from where

I came,let me evolve as a man of good deeds

And leave behind the scent...