The Lost Fragrance

Kissing his mother he bid her good-bye,
Not knowing if he would live or die!
for all that he did was no more a dream
with bare hands and a silent scream
he marched on to the battleflied.

The warriors there were startling,
which included women and siblings!
some mocked while others pitied him,
but, he fought till the the lights grew dim.
He fought for his survival.

He fought the battle but never won,
but still fought desiring freedom and fun!
he would see others ease their life ,
while tears of silence drop on to his knife.
Tears which folks speak of but seldom know.

This warrior was great in his own right
for, he saw the world every night,
rejoicing the sunset and enjoying the cool
while he wrapped up himself like a fool
he hated the day but had to love it.

A silent death took him off one night
as he lay still among the burnt out lights
he was niether honoured nor remembered,
neither attended to nor favoured,
as he looked over the battlefield;

The flower lost its fragrance,
the rainbow its colour and flavour,
and the bird his melody.
Silently he cried over his lost life
his life of childhood.