Dry Straw

In the midst of the exuberant and deeply rooted pasture, I found a rootless and homeless dry straw with a prosaic feature, It was lean and pale And it emitted foul smell; It was awkward and alien in that place And it had to endure there the nature's severe stress, Its eyes were gloomy and despondent, As it knew well it could never reach the green's sweet scent. The pasture being the privileged class, wanted to remove the straw As it did not want to allow in its delicate bosom any significant flaw. The dry and yellow straw was the deprived and neglected part in that society, In the absence of grandeur and magnificence it was an account of futility, But the rule of nature is very severe, Adversity must come at a certain time in every sphere; That day the devastating flood came And the green pasture was submerged under its vast water frame, But one's misfortune may bring another's good fortune, Such a tough situation being the special advantage for the dry and vagrant straw, This time by instinct the straw became comfortable and agile And on the surface of the water it floated and went away with an easy smile, Soon it reached the safe and unthreatened land; But the confined green pasture and its sweet perfume was utterly damaged and killed forever Under the water by the rigorous and mighty hand.