Between The Covers
I have plucked
Every primrose and daisy
Sprouting in myriad colours
On every wild vegetation,
Grown around my neighbour’s fence.
I have also plucked
All the flowers on my path
In their youthful fragrance,
Of spilled out pollen,
And in their sealed-dreams,
Clinging intimately to the
Tender stems of unknown creepers.
I don’t know
For whom they bloomed,
For the hot Sun?
For the cool Moon?
Or for the soothing South Wind?
The flowers have never complained,
Either loud or in whispers,
I have not cared to heed
Their effeminate indignation
Against my reckless passion,
I have also not spared
All the early flowers
Of Spring and Summer
Grown in the distant meadows
Only to press them for you
Between the covers.
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Comments about this poem (Between The Covers by R.K Das )
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