I walked as in a trans along the siloughtted beach
alone wandered the little girl ,the flower seller
Nobody except stray dogs and streetsmarts
The tantalising waves roared to frighten them
The garlands in her hands so fragrant and fresh
Only a few she could sell,what to do with the rest?
The flowers should have more lifespan,she thought
Until she sold it out,But a plucked flower has no life
Because it has been separated from its mother.
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