The colour of flowers,

The fragrance of blossoms,

The music of ’gale,

The breeze of vale,

The face of child,

The gems of morn,

The zest of youth,

The power of truth,

Common we see,

The beauty.

Flowers but wilt,

The blossoms decay,

The ’gales when die,

Truth becomes a lie,

In eve we mourn,

On death of breeze,

Gem’s but a tear,

Face wrinkles with fear,

The beauty of youth:

In age turns ruth.

Yet something remains,

In grief and pains,

To bring a smile

In life of care,

Yes beauty is there

To sweep the tear.

Copyright © 2001 Khan, Khalid Raza