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Flowering
Flowers are a part of speech too plain,
The language of it is the kingdom of plants.
Offering, exactly conferring, and inferring,
They compute to loosen their offspring.
The wind imitates the parts of the wind
With flowing power, brains are dead.
Often time is allowing a flower to be fed
By the water of the floor, the gestures are bleeding.
May water rise from its stem and flourish in its organs,
Its organs, its organs concentrate too believably.
Flowers work outside as do their people,
So much has contrived the flower to be.
poem
by
Naveed Akram
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