The Truth Poem by RAJESH.C BOSE

Adept were his fingers
In examining and selecting
Flowers exuding ethereal fragrance
And bathed in eternal beauty.

I, the old buffer, cast an eye
On this passing fancy
With my frozen prejudices
That conditioned my mind
And stagnated it.

The young chap sported a smile
He selected an assortment of flowers
I decided, sure! He was a lover.

I was glued to the spot
To watch his further movements

But the game took an unexpected twist
He went to the nearest temple
And offered the flowers to his deity.

Moral: Truth always eludes me