I plucked a bud
It emerged into a flower
I poked it in the mud
Watered it every hour

Beautiful petals,
greeted with fragrance
Soft stem and leaves,
smiled with elegance

Upon sunset, the same day
The flower hung low
As I moved away
It withered and took a bow

Next day, no fragrance
No cheerful bloom
It looked obvious on the entrance
So I plucked out to its doom

I cried,
as I shouldn't have plucked the bud
I cried,
coz it seemed unhappy so it kissed the mud

I left the flowers to be
As they bloom beautifully how it used to be
So I just visit the shrub bushes to see
The blossoms, the butterflies and the bees...