The flowers play

I was in a garden
looking for rose,
some like red
and fragrance of prose.

I thought for a while
the purpose to pluck,
while gazing towards pond
watching a duck.

I saw few children
giggling at park,
lost among the flowers
without concerning the mark.

What is that make them
play between those flowers,
or are they enjoying like the grass
with dew that showers.

How beautiful it is to
see these little grow,
looking at these roses
I came to know

The flower that loves night

I see you everyday from my window,
how beautiful it is to feel your shadow.

Do you not love the sun,
or this gloom has a different fun.

I believe you have fallen in love with those stars,
so is the reason you do shine with all sparks.

neither bee nor sun, how do you grow,
or you are too sacred of the crow.

I think you are also in love with the gloom,
and so has your beauty its own bloom.

I pity the sun and their flower,
because they are missing the moon and its shower