Putting flowers into the vases with precision. Meticulous and beautiful, mesmerising process.
Hands moving in a concrete and definite manner, with charm and gentle touch.

The beauty of the setting is what comes to the mind.
Like one to make the place so fine and energy divine,
Her way of working in the day transcends to night with light
These moments are the time of peace,
Like meditating on the knees, with different set of flowers,
Things, that make the art produce a piece of fine joy filled from mind
White flowers with a hint of red, the green of stems and potters ware
The scissors cut the fine excess, like tailor suiting up the rest
With each and every little go, the time seems like it changes flow
The words are hushed, the air is fresh, with mat that’s laid beneath her bed
Just like the fineries of gods, the pace at which she picks and holds
Each stem with grace and inner know is something that transcends beyond
It’s weaver on the days of sun, with closing down to tiny fun
Accepting stillness and the thoughts, preserving words, admitting fault
The days create the fine bouquet, one that depicts the targets met
Each story holds the right of being, as each of us deserves the seeing
Of life unfold before the ones, with gentle tones, with warmer hearts
Presume the best, relay the tone – the old has gone, no older lore
The new epiphany is here, the chapter is from new page, fair
With clean cut stems and finer trim, the flowers rest, the new begins