Each wilted flower has seen,
a gentle smile curled on the lips,
a glitter in the eyes that saw it,
caressing touch of fingers that brushed past it,
a cheek as rosy as itself rubbed against it,
a warm sigh of an old lady,
remembering someone,
a bee that drank it’s nectar,
waved in hands of a young lover,
whispering stories short and sweet,
little prayers and wishes,
whispered to it for good luck,
a shy giggling girl,
repeating- ” loves me, loves me not ”
little buds blossomed,
and carried secrets as they bloomed,
secrets of life,
serene and true