The Blossom

Walked down the path,

This merciful life,

Flowers and memories strewn about,

I picked up from the street,

The prettiest blossom!

Untrampled,

And in full bloom,

It looked at me with tired eyes,

A captivating gaze,

Or a cry for help?

The petals,

Luscious like the vine,

That passes by along my side,

The stalk a tender, fragile hue,

With a solitary leaf!

The pollen,

The emotions that relate,

To a special, lovely bloom,

Mere grains for most other ones,

An irritant to the rest!

I gazed into the tired eyes,

To decipher what they held inside,

Yet again came rushing,

Those emotions,

That wrench my heart!

The horizon,

Now a dull ochre,

My shadows now lag behind,

I pondered what those eyes would say,

To the next familiar gaze.