I've been wondering why,
My life a withered bloom,
I had barely blossomed.
Alas, am blown down,
Smeared are my petals with dust,
Gazing at the sky, I lay.
Ripped by a gentle breeze,
To a land far off am taken,
Away from my fragrance.
I wonder,
is it an act of God?
© 2015 Ajay Pai (Reserved)
poem
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