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?”
