A Creeper And The House Keeper Poem by Akhtar Jawad

Rising and falling, falling and rising,
I always think what the reason of my downfall was.
Who gave me courage to rise after a fall?
Why next time I rose a little higher after all?
What worry me am I going to fall forever,
or it's a cycle and I shall creep once again.
Who is the house keeper?
I creep on the windows of his room,
I am a creeper with multicoloured flowers,
I am a creeper with so many fragrances,
As long as I am a source of a lovely sight,
as long as I am an air freshener,
as long as I am a soothing greenery,
the keeper, a poet, writes poems on me,
but when I wildly expand
and I start obstructing light and air,
the same keeper comes out of his room
with an unseen scissors
and reduces my offshoots to his desired magnitude!
I see most of my living branches
with green leaves and colourful flowers
fall on the bosom of my mother
from where I was risen and breast fed,
I was a part of my mother
I decay and become her pat once again.
My father, I know you'll come once again to my mother,
the creeper will rise once again,
with all its colours and fragrances,
you'll write new poems,
the creeper will be ahero of your long poems,
and then an unseen scissors again!