They lie there, on the chipped slab <br />Where no one sniffs its smell <br />Its beauty does not rouse a talk <br />Since the dead can’t see and tell <br /> <br />Thronging the shrine of sacred stone <br />Each element in service of him <br />Endorsed with holiness unknown <br />They gleam with a hallowed vim <br /> <br />Laid with care, designed to excite <br />Gracing the boudoir of newly wed <br />Squashed, squeezed through the night <br />While a life begins, they are dead.<br /><br />Seema Aarella<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/those-flowers/
