When He Will Come...

In The Name of Allah

The depressed and crestfallen red flower shrub had embraced her knees in her arms, rested her forehead on her branches, raised her head with a faded sight glanced at the mourning willow and slowly whispered:

“I am tired, I am very exhausted.”

The mourning willow with the help of the wind, turned her branches towards the red flower, bowed her head a little so as to clearly hear her voice:

“Did you say you are tired? Have I heard clearly? You are also tired like me?”

The red flower shrub who had become surprised from the answer of the mourning willow raised her head above and asked:

“You? Are you also really tired? Why you?”

The mourning willow affectionately rested her twigs on the shoulders of the red flower and said:

“My grievance and distress cannot be related. My sorrow and grief is not a story of yesterday and today. From the time that I recognized myself, I am living with this sadness. But you do talk with me. Speak out your grievance and ailment for me. Maybe, you will be alleviated. Maybe, a little of your sadness and disappointment will be lessened and diminished.”

The red flower that had begun to cry and the dew tears, which had encircled in the eyes of the leaf said:

“My sorrow is not a trivial sorrow. My fatigue and tiredness is not little. I am so much broken hearted that the melody and singing of any canary or nightingale cannot make me cheerful. I am tired as I have rested too much on the flower, and my buds and flowers have withered and faded due to the hands of the passer-byes”

And then suddenly, the red flower burst into tears and the dew tears started raining from her eyes.

to be continued...