Masterpiece

Friends of the breeze,daughters of the showers,
God's masterpiece,none but the flowers,
Embroidered beauty,each little bloom,
Drugging sight,dispeller of all gloom.

Cradling the playful drops of morning dew,
They wait,to bask in the glory of Sun's view,
Then,murals unveiled, frescoes of the Earth,
Paintings, adorning His altar,the blessed birth.

When they spring in that Season extraordinaire,
The riot of colours,all senses,they ensnare,
Uninfected, not a soul is, by the hued smile,
Even that mouth curves,sheltering a heart vile.

Spirited blossoms,cheerful forever and more,
Born on the sandy deserts or along the shore,
Unaware of the grace, they lend to the Nature,
They glide through life,but not for long --never.

When homeward,to the west,journeys the Sun,
A few more short breaths before they are done.
They know,but not before with their perfume,
The air is steeped,they part,the withering bloom.

The humble teachers of life's lessons,
Life led in short bursts,in shorter seasons,
Teach me to be unattached to my breath,
And be as graceful as you are in death.

Lend me the strength you harbour in a spirit bold,
To make peace with life,devoid of warmth,so cold,
I desire no pen to ink a word on my passing away,
Only your fragrant presence, by my grave,to sway.       
                                                                                 Chandni.