Paradise

On these hills of dead flowers
Piled up for years by the gardeners
The waters flow from
Onto the ground below.
No one know where they are from
The flowers are from the gardens around
But where are the waters from?
Asked everyone to each others
The gardening was good and the land is fertile
The sun shone well and the leaves grew green all the while
But how do these flowers be born dead
With a lot of life around?
Asked everyone to self and each other.
And when the little boy from the crowd
Walked in and climbed the hill of dead flowers
And with his little thumb on the water spring
He closed it and the water stopped.
He smiled as everyone looked at the flowers
Coming back to life.

-Aroon Che