Bougainvillea Of Many Colors Poem by Mohammad Yousef

B Mohammad A.Yousef

In the quiet village of Qurfis,
where the clay roads twist like thoughts,
the sun dips low, painting shadows on warm walls,
and there they bloom,
Bougainvillea of many colors,
cascading in flares of purple, pink, and deep red,
a vibrant crown ringing my rural house.

They twine around the wooden posts,
a natural curtain fluttering in the gentle breeze,
like laughter dancing on a summer afternoon.
Each blossom tells a story—
of rains that coax them from slumber,
of the sunlight, eager and warm,
that wraps them in care.

The petals, delicate like whispers,
drop softly on the earth,
carpeting the ground with color,
so the space around me
feels like a wonderland of dreams.
I can almost hear the bees humming,
their busy symphony of life,
as they visit each vibrant bloom,
gathering sweet moments in little jars.

Children run, tracing paths made golden by blooms,
their laughter echoing between walls
where paintings of lavender meet the sky.
Hands reach out, as if to capture
the essence of each brimming color,
yellows, oranges, pinks, and reds
cradling warmth and joy in a globe of life.

In this stunning spread of nature,
I find a hug,
gentle yet strong,
the world a little softer, wrapped in petal dreams,
reminding me each day,
that in simple beauty lies
the pulse of something grand,
a piece of love woven into every day.

They bleed their hues into each other,
merging like old friends sharing stories
underneath the forgiving sun,
where worries float away
on the breeze with the late afternoon light,
and the Bougainvillea stand,
bold and brilliant, guardians of my home
here in Qurfis, where life breathes
in colors that wrap my heart.

Bougainvillea of many colors
wraps around my rural house,
like laughter spilled from a jar,
pink, purple, orange, and white,
a cascading dance of petals.

The sun slips gently through,
painting shadows on the walls,
where rustic wood meets vibrant blooms,
like my thoughts weaving through the day,
rich as the earth beneath my feet.

Come closer, hear the whispers,
the stories held in every vine,
a treasure map of memories,
where the wind carries secrets,
and the breeze hums soft lullabies.

They hold the giggles of children,
running wild, chasing sunlight,
fingers sticky with summer's sweetness,
while bees, in yellow coats,
paint a buzzing canvas in the air.

On weekends, I stand with my coffee,
watching time dance beneath the colors,
hands wrapped around warmth,
as cardinals visit for breakfast,
their songs weaving a sweet tapestry among the hues.

Each morning, the world awakens,
bathed in hues that chase the dawn,
tender leaves like fingers reach
for the sky, yearning for stars,
as storm clouds gather their thoughts.

Storms tumble closer, thunder whispers
in the language of a restless heart,
but even rain can't wash away
the joy wrapped around my home,
as Bougainvillea knows how to stand brave.

When dusk sighs, the colors dull,
like an artist retreating,
but my heart still beats bright—
in the sleepy shadows,
life continues to bloom anew.

Bougainvillea of many colors,
a vibrant shield against the world,
envelops my home, fills it with stories,
a canvas of love painted in petals,
comforting in its wild embrace.