In hues of pink and purest white,
A fragrant dream doth take its flight,
Where flower sellers ply their charms,
Their faces round, their arms are strong.
With nimble hands, they weave bouquets,
A symphony of colors displayed,
Rose and lilies, sweet jasmine's grace,
Creating beauty time cannot erase.
As day unfolds in city's heart,
They seek their customers, from start,
To end of day, they stand on streets,
Their bodies sway, their voices sweet.
Oh, flower sellers, round and stout,
With smiles wide, they spread delight,
They bring forth joy with each bloom they sell,
Their presence in city's soul doth dwell.
So, let us greet them with a grin,
And take a moment to feel within,
Their kindness and their spirit free,
For in their joy, we find our glee.