Blooming flowers with colorful petals are beauty to reckon with. What ever may be their circumference, the center of the petals remain same,"The base of sepals where the next generation to be born is nestled".
Seing the petals whither,while the base swelled with pride, made me realize how similar flower's life is to a women's life
Flowers bloom,
The beauty unparalleled,
Petals dance with happiness,
The circumference they have,
The colors they display,
The size and shape,
Are never the same,
Yet what's that something,
common that binds them all?
They are all bound to the base,
Where is nestled the womb,
Protected by sepals greens,
The soft sticky brightly colored stigma,
Atop style leading to ovary the Womb,
The anther "bag full of pollens",
Dangling from the filament of stamen,
Stigma is eager to accept the pollen,
Pollens awaiting the nectar collectors.
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The petals proud of their beauty,
Spectacular colors and aroma,
Dancing to the tune of flowing wind,
Holding tight the base they cherish,
This they do not in mere vanity,
But to fulfill the urge of stigma,
For a pollen,
And of pollen,
To fall on that soft bed.
Thus they
Attract the insects birds and butterflies,
The petals are stomped,
Pricked and pierced,
By delicate looking,
Nectar seeking,
Insects birds and flies.
Yet uncomplaining,
Flapping with happiness,
They bear the brunt,
For the future,
They help to grow.
They hold to the base,
Protecting the babies,
Flourishing in womb,
From danger unknown.
The womb swell,
Babies grow,
Petals lose their beauty,
Cos they were undefended,
Yet defending protecting ,
Their vulnerable babies.
They were happy,
Unrepentent, uncomplaining,
Accepting their destiny,
They knew the duty is well done,
The future will bloom again.
They whithered,
Remembering their beauty of past,
And knowing,
More like them,
Will dance again,
Holding to the base tightly,
Keeping the future safe,
Remaining in Periphery.
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