Bougainvilla

A poem on how love is compared to the bougainvilla flower

Sweet Bougainvilla, how you sway,
Softly, sadly, torn and frayed.
By the breeze on your side,
She lifts you up and lets you die.

Humble Bougainvilla, the way you bow,
Shamelessly they make you frown.
Your lover has left you by the by,
He can't see you weep, cry.

Alas, Bougainvilla, you are alone,
Solitary, no one hears you moan.
The world hardly gives a care
For your heart, laid so bare.

Perhaps, there will come one day,
Answered all your wishes prayed.
Perchance they may come for you,
As your tourniquet, soulmate's hue.