Flowers in the Wind

Fortunate flowers ferment in favourable ways,
They grow utterly beyond control, ways are unlimited;
The stalks dance in the wind for they are soft
And the breezes turn shy of them,
For they are lucky to be washed.
The wind has washed the petals as well
And their clothing has arrived
With a burial, as it seems.
Fortune with plants is not of with animals,
The air is wind, the flowers are blown over with anger
As they have been unduly complimented.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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