Streaks of pink and white
On a little flower; tender and light.
Rows of brown and green
On a tiny leaf are seen.
The dry breeze wafted along the barbed wire;
The men in a spire; the scenery dire,
A handful of innocent children came near
To touch a lonely flower, to them very dear.
Among the last green leaves of the tree,
A little last blossom flutters free,
Like a dying man breathing his last,
Like a soldier slain in the battles past.
The silent wanderer wades through dusk and dawn,
She stealthily sweeps across every lawn.
The lovely vagrant is so fragrant and fair,
She heralds the arrival of monsoon in the air.
Pride, the survivor of a wealthy pedigree,
The passionate song of sin sung free,
The inheritor of the devil's riches,
The evil element of wizards and witches.