Flowers are for the birth of love:
Bouquets thrown for others to catch 
That they may trace their love's path;

Yet flowers are for the death of love
Wreaths laid on the stones above dust
Therein loved ones had become lost.

But you, Zabeebah 
You are not plastic flora laid in a vase 
Not a placeholder who cannot give fragrance 
Or an immobile ornament that cannot grow 
You are not Pretty-empty. 

You are the seed that took ages
But sprouted to this beautiful hibiscus 
On your birth, the forests danced 
And the universe gave you a thousand names
From all tribes and tongues. 

You are the answer to many prayers
The solace of a hundred bended knees 
And the calm to the scarred bowed foreheads.

And on your heart, we will plant the seeds
Of love for the earth and the things it birthed
And fondness for hearts that danced when you berthed.

So dear Zabeebah,
Carry with you the weight of our trust
And don't in this wild world get lost 
Because you are our dream, Zabeebah!