A hundred thousand flowers,

Scattered lavishly around.

 

Like a quilt or blanket,

Spread casually across a bed,

With tucks and folds suggesting

Velvet pillows for one's head.

 

The only company, a cloud

Floating in a sky of crystal blue,

And perhaps some dancing butterflies,

As soft breezes rustle through.

 

This place of blooms, of divine design,

Shyly welcomes man's intrusion,

And man comes here to praise his Lord,

So in awe of such profusion.