Asmi Chelawat, Class X A
Amongst the trees that rose so high,
Among the animals that are so wild,
A flowery bush that stands a bit low,
With the beauty that is ready to be explored.
‘Does beauty have some requirement,
Or does it lie beneath oneself,
Willing to be explored and to be felt?’
Thinks the bush to itself.
It does not know what comes ahead,
It waits to see what happens next,
To see if it dies out of pain,
Or if its beauty gets some words of fame.
It wishes that it gets a name,
Poets who are willing to frame,
Poems on its beauty and grace,
Time, oh it wants to rush its pace.
This is what the bush feels,
Some leaves so green and others uncurled,
Out of all rocks that were so huge,
This is the stone that remains unturned.
