The stale flowers are not to smell,
The stale flowers do not fall,
They have fallen a long time ago,
As they couldn’t soar the skies,
As they couldn’t reach the nigh,
The stale flowers were once beautiful,
The stale flowers were once flowers of which were all good,
But now they are being absorbed in the nature,
Rather than being trodden upon,
The stale flowers were once yellow,
Now that yellow is all gone,
It’s like they were never born,
Never been good,
Never have seen the day,
The flowers which were once yellow in colour
Are now nothing but stale.
Staleness is good, it doesn’t upset you.
Now what upsets is when nothing comes out of good.
Good remains good, state remains stale.
The flowers are naturally a part of the nature,
Whether they be stale or good,
It’s simply time and man’s play.