Here I stand !
On the road of fatal
Where I land
May not be that of medal
But still, I love it smoothness
It's free and the pureness

The air may be better
For me to soar higher
But I never forget am a flower
Made from and for the sweetness of the land

Many sweet mouth comes my way
Just to have a grasp of my lay
Many fantasy and lullaby
Just to turn me big and make me high
And yes! it makes me high

But not daze of my stand
Although, many words on air
Uncivilized, old, some even mime
But they no not
My freshness is bound with time
Soon those freshness would fade

My spoilage won't do me any good
Than to be a view to passer by
So, I need to be good
To be the song and lullaby
By the adult and old....

(The pureness of a seed, is determined by the freshness of its flower. Stay fresh to produce the purest seed)

By. TEEGAR 🐯