The Female Flower Poem by Akhtar Jawad

I looked at the hair clip
in my sweet heart's silky hairs
fighting with winds
that like the shining hairs
attempting again and again
to touch the rosy cheeks.
I love those hairs scattered on my shoulders
but when they scatter on her cheeks
and crawl to her lips in a naughty mood
I am jealous.
I think I should redress her hairs
so that they may fail to materialize their naught.
But how?
I should pluck a flower
and while placing it tightly in the clips
I should redress her hairs
making it difficult for them to reach the coral lips.
I extended my selfish hands to a bud
just sprung in a flower.
A flower, a model of delicacy,
an art in pink color,
an aromatic painting,
a virgin wet in due drops,
the petals shivering with fear
to be plucked.
I heard the flower's voice.
No Sir,
please don't pluck me.
See the helpless green sepals
not strong enough to obstruct you mighty hands
I know thorns may fight for me
but will surrender to you
after justbringing a drop of blood on your fingers
I shall feel guilty for that drop of blood.
Do you also feel guilty,
when you obstruct my natural life cycle.
Look at the ovule in my ovary,
It's dreaming to fuse a pollen grain in it.
Look at my style it's excited
Have you ever seen a teen aged girl after puberty?
A blending of innocence, beauty and dreams!
Look at my stigma.
Have you ever seen that beautiful girl
in a bikini at the beach?
That innocent beautiful girl is designed to be loved
and become a mother a creator.
So I am,
I am also beautiful
I am also designed for pollination.
Like that girl's womb my ovary will also carry an embryo.
It will also be swollen as a fruit.
Dear Sir, I am sure, instead of a flower in her hairs
if my fruit you pluck and gift it to your sweetheart
she will be more happy.
She is also a female like me.