Like the unfurling of an Azerbejaan flower to the call of its Lord
She too grew with a sense of purpose
The delicate head drawn to the sunlight
mesmerised each passerby.
It was never the richness of the scent
( or ) the array of colours
( or ) the strength of the stem holding her upright
that would prompt a man to love

But the discovery that each petal
protected a heart so sacred
that even the bud had no knowledge of the purity within.



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