A flower rare grew ’midst the wild flowers,
And had such beauty, words can never tell!
Last year, ’twas born in July-end showers;
This July rain became its fast death knell.
The flower will not grow here-aft again!
No more its sweet perfume shall emanate;
And while alive, this land always did gain;
Some persons didn’t allow it pollinate.
The flower’s dead and none can resurrect!
The time was short for seeds to generate;
But all the time, it stood with grace- Erect!
And gained a place in hearts that venerate.
The flower will not bloom herein again!
Ill-luck had smiled, denying all, its reign.
7-2O-2003 by Dr John Celes
Dedicated to www.PoemHunter.com
(my 888th poem submitted here)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem