Flowers of a plant together at one end, yet so far from each other at the other end
Same fragrances share they all, but still one beautiful the other ugly called.
Withering all with the plant
One lives on in memory lanes and the other forgotten forever?
Is it one destiny to be loved and retained by a lover in his memoirs? And the other turn to dust laying on the ground no one cared of?
Is it the maker's versatility to be blamed for the diversity? Or is it only us who have these diversities?
Is it for us to keep wondering about destinies, while each flower spreads it aroma?
