Do not pluck flowers from my garden
O Passerby, please,
These live within my heart and soul
Within me gentle like the breeze,
It’s these that perfume my life
Give it scent so I live with ease,
As the willows that miss the Spring
Without them, in Winter, I too would freeze.

The flowers too would miss me much
For, with you there is no empathy,
You came, you saw, you thought, you conquered
Veni, Vidi, Vici,
Where warmth and love and nurturing is missing
That play is ephemeral, a soon-forgotten tragedy,
With you it will but wither, pine and die
In its last breath will be my name, Me.

Please pluck, if you must, a leaf and no more
So, the beauty of that Rose lives in your eye,
And that, which lies treasured within me
Does not begin to sob or cry
For, this bed of Roses and each flower there
A filial bond, a close affection, cherishes with me,
A life together that binds us forever
And, for me, defines Eternity.

We’re all wayfarers, O Passerby
This road’s the same for all,
Cobbled or laden with gold
We all rise, and fall,
He whom Fortune trod upon
Will again, someday, stand tall,
Never forget, if you hurt a flower today
What may, on you, tomorrow befall.

Fortune favours those it likes
Do not believe the tales of yesteryears,
It has no soft corners for the brave
It likes those that repent with tears,
It is kind and merciful to the soft and gentle
As it allays their misplaced fears,
Dame Fortune, is a fickle mistress
But, a wailing heart she, always, hears.

(The author is a prolific poet who has over 30 poetry books to his credit. He can be reached at ashoksawhny06@gmail.com/ www.ashoksawhny.com)