the flower

Yes, there is a flower in a quiet field
A black sheep among weeds
Taking up its lil' patch in a sea of green

A wall flower it was
But with ample sun and rain
It grew day by day
Becoming more beautiful
As it outshined the other plants
Green with envy

And from dainty it was
It became glorious
So majestic with its petals bright
And its scent so alluring

It garnered much attention
And it too was aware of itself
As many came and went
Too curious, intoxicated
Wanting a peek or a quick sniff

Now, quiet the field wasn't anymore
More and more they came and went
As the other plants got trampled
A path of crushed grass was formed
Leading visitors to the flower
They fought, they attempted stealing it
As greedy hands yearning for it potted with soil in their own homes

Hiding behind some bushes and the chaos
Crouched I observing the flower
Revelling at the sight of it form a distance
For
This all I can manage
If I were to unearth it
Put it in a pot
With my imcompetent and inexperienced hands
It surely would wilt and die
Along with its beauty
Forever gone

This morning

This morning,
I woke up,
Feeling like a bird,
Flying, soaring endlessly,
Through the misty clouds,
Over green tree-tops,
Under the sky blue sky,
To be free from the chains,
Of school and routine,
Oh,
If only this could last forever.

This morning,
I did not moan,
As my fingers slammed the 'snooze' button,
I did not rush out of bed,
I did not don my shirt and slacks,
Instead,
I took my time,
Like a snail,
Oblivious to what is slow or what is fast,

This morning,
For once,
I looked out the window,
Stunned,
That this beauty,
Never before noticed,
Was so near,
So right-there,
As it remained just out of range,
Of the narrow and tunneled vision of,
other rushers alike.

So,
I learned to,
Let time run its unrelenting course,
Like a river,
Flowing regardless,
Be a fish,
And swim in the forthy current of time,
Be a twig,
And succumb to the flow,
Or
Be a rock,
And let the twigs and fish alike,
Go along their paths,
As you just sit and watch,
Stationary,
Unaffected by the unmerciful stream of time.
Whether I choose to be a slave of it,
That's a choice.
What are you?

Rain

hey. Do you like rain?
No I'm not talking about a Korean superstar.

Oh rain,
From the skies above,
You make your descent,
To terra firma,
As heaven-sent.

With a rhythmic pelt,
You drum on my windows,
And outside you're felt,
Washing people's sorrows.
You cool my nights,
As your steady beating,
Has me lulled,
Till I'm deep sleeping.

So rain,
Rain, don't go away,
Who cares,
If you make the skies gray,
Who gives a damn,
If the children can't play,
(They're too noisy anyway)
I say,
you're OK,
You make my day.

Well almost.
As I'm seating,
Marveling,
You make me yearn,
For that seat beside me,
To be filled you see,
It's still not close,
To true perfection,
Without that
Person of my affection. :)