Paper Flowers Poem by Mahathi Mydavolu

(Formal verse in iambic pentameter)
With lifeless smiles she's sitting tight in the vase.
With painted flowers, leaves and twigs she's like
a dressed deadman on funeral day. Let days
and months pass by...for ever she's childlike
innocent sans conceit and crooked ways.

I mizzled some perfume on her and tried
to adjust her petals. She quailed a bit!
'O God, can paper plants do that? ' I sighed
and sprayed some more! She swayed again and spit
on soil below. What's moving her... I pried!

There's nothing there around...no flies, no worms!
She's like a corpse, that popped up head from grave.
She's same...no spring elates nor autumn harms
her paper body. I laughed and said 'So knave!
'Don't like ersatz...as if you're fresh from farm! ? '

I smiled again. O God she's smiling back!
I wondered, did she cut a piece of soul
from Maker her? ! Then how come smirk a quack
flower and mock at me? ! ' I couldn't control
my awe and soon became emotional!

My wife then came: 'What're you doing there 'lone? '
I told. She said: 'When you and I can smile
why not a paper rose? What zing of life we own
today...same fake simpers... we're just a pile
of bones... at least her smile has got no guiles! '