Flowers Blossom (A Sonnet) Poem by Varghese Kuncheria

Flowers blooming in and out of season,
For whom it blooms is still a mystery,
Mother nature for sure they do adorn
A balm soothing to any naked eye.
A pervert to spoil its lure every day,
Plucking it for very many purpose,
To please a god in rituals today,
To stamp down soon after in animus.
To array a nuptial arch to supple,
Yet again to be thrown awhile later,
And to garland many a young couple,
The rich and poor without spite or favour.
Then it falls on the neck of a stiff-necked,
The proud and boastful with a cry aloud.