What is gone, is gone.

There was a garden, vast and wide. With hundred of flowers side by side. The Gardner loved them all, cared for each. Yet one flower held his heart’s reach. The prettiest bloom, the sweetest smell. He nurtured it all, and loved it well.

But one day out of the gloom, The gardener noticed that his favourite bloom. May be it died, or someone took. Leaving an empty spot, a silent nook. The Gardner wept with endless sorrows. But nothing was going to bring that flower back tomorrow.

In pain he asked the garden true, “Does it deeply hurt you too?” The garden whispered soft and low, “Each day some flowers come and go.” When a flower dies, the garden feels small. It’s the hardest of times for it to stand tall. But life goes on, through loss and pain, Nothing will stop that, not even a storm or rain.

The Gardner stands with a heavy heart, His hopes and heart torn apart. The favourite flower will never again be seen. A precious bloom lost in between. And yet through the sorrow, and through the ache. The gardner makes a choice to take. To tend the soil with a quiet grace. To welcome blooms that time will replace.

With memories of what’s not forlorn, The Gardner stands, alone and torn. Though the pain is too much, he has to cope. To move ahead, and to hold on to some other hope.

He now accepts that the flower won’t ever return, And trusts again that new blooms will fern. The flower gone will not come back, And the Gardner leads his track. He walks ahead with wounds and scars. But he still prays to the stars, Guided by their light and, near and far.