In the room drapes with heavy curtains
A speckle of sunlight creeps in between
Donning themselves in different shades of colours
The flowers are talking.
Dainty daisies, brilliant lilies, elegant roses
All crystal crowned in exquisite vases
They come in different form of classes
Carry an air of individual distinction.
Beautiful as they are, sophisticated they may be
Put them together in the same vase
They will get on each other's nerves.
Distinguished by their nurtured personalities
They talk of nothing but of one common interest.
In this room, the flowers are displayed in rows
Adorned by hues and brushes
They are men favourite subject matter.
Their timeless beauty are framed
While time eats into their petals.
What difference does it make?
They wither all the same.
18 February 2008, Monday
8:27pm
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