Dorothy Sinha

(7th Aug 1980)

Mohua


one fell to the ground every now and then..
the rust earth covered with yellow flowers
carelessly strewn
Yet how carefully made..
a closed mouth each
protective of the pitcher of nectar beneath
and the musky smell
intoxicatingly sweet

Up above
a bevy of ants were climbing the trunk
greedy for more;
A lonely squirrel though
searched in the blades of the grass
for lonely flowers;
At the tugs of a gentle breeze
more flowers fell from the trees,
all over me,
all over the ground,
some hid under old leaves,
some rolled around

I spent many a lonely hour
reclining in peace
amidst the flowers
where bliss pervaded the deep abyss
of my cobwebbed soul

Submitted: Friday, May 16, 2014

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