The Writing on the Flowers – By Niranjan Selvadurai

The Writing on the Flowers – By Niranjan Selvadurai

Source : Niranjan Selvadurai Linkedin Post

What are those letters, Mother dear,
So daintily written on flowers here?
Who writes them, Mother, line by line,
In colours bright and shapes so fine?

Of wonders in the moonlit woods,
You do not know, my little son —
For when wise sages speak of good,
The forest angels write each one.

From where do flowers get their hue?
Such lovely shades — we have so few.
Mother, Mother, tell me how;
I cannot understand it now.

When sunrise glows and sunsets blaze,
The clouds paint skies in shifting haze;
From those soft dyes the flowers take
Their colours, son — for beauty’s sake.

Mother, Mother, see the birds —
They glance at petals as if at words.
Their chirping sounds, so quick and bright,
Suggest they know the message right.

My little son, you may be right;
Bird songs bring joy in morning light.
In every tune, what’s softly said
Is written on each petal head.

Flowers above and flowers below,
And birds in flocks that come and go —
Why is this not seen each day?
Where do birds and flowers stray?

In days when lived the ancient sage,
Nature’s beauty graced each age;
Humans, creatures, leaf and tree
Rejoiced together, wild and free.

Mother, when I was saying a prayer,
The sage looked down at flowers there.
Did you see him softly smiling,
As though recalling ancient teaching.