Detached flowers.

People often forget you sooner, they use,

Resembling you something made to refuse,

Henceforth no grace and none to praise,

     Looking so nice when you were in vase,

Gone are days, when you were in race,

            You were cut with great care and without tear,

             Some ones offer you to there nears and dears,

             Others may use in forbidding with tears,

             Were in temple you wore on Gods,

             And in ceremonies you board on lords,

You are adhesive in tying up lovers,

Gaping the bridge of emotions in hovers,

You are seated up and all and above,

Making you there a good pretty show,

               Nations over all grow you ever,

               You make bread for the fewer,

               You face pain only when it is rain

               Fitted in garland we make you train,

But! Time is little there to shine, rest in vain,

Still you make every one to become fan.

You mystify soul, you are divine

Alas! You have a short life.

                           (B2raina)