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Two Earthen Pots

As I sit beside the balcony,
I see two earthen pots one besides the other,
light brown, freckled and same,
but still there lies a difference none the less.

There was a blossoming flower once,
with its ripening petals of red,
being watered daily it grew slowly,
maturing into a mesmerising rose.

But now in the earthen pot lies
dried leaves, shrivelled petals, and lifeless roots,
all turned into the dust,
with one cruel swipe of death.

Dancing to the tunes of wind,
a sapling grows in the other earthen pot,
watered with care and love,
life finds its way out through the mud.

Life and death is a cycle,
one takes place after another,
the old becomes one with the sands of time,
and the new blossoms with eternity.

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