Dry flowers
are lying inactive
on the garden floor
the wayward morsels of wind
are puffing them
from one place to another-
now,
in this late afternoon
they are in quest of dew
the colorless petals
are still trying hard
to attract the butterflies
though,
the time is changing-
relatively in the Kaleidoscope.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wayward morsels! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.