For Cataleya Poem by Walter Abah

Cataleya, maiden of the sun,
pride of the Savannah,
thy fragrance caresses gently,
the special world for you and I in the garden,
a special bond buried in thy succulent petals,
venerated at dawn-
as the dew rained.
It wraps us in its cocoon,
and holds us fiercely in its womb,
its fingers spread like fine spun gold,
gently nestling us to the fold,
Like silken thread it holds us fast,
bonds like this are meant to knot;
tons are times the bond broke,
a new one formed in its wake,
to bind us closer,
in a special world we belong-
where pent-up re-echoes.
Holding unto fallen embers,
I grieve-
we used to be much closer than we're now.

Cataleya, maiden of the sun,
pride of the Savannah,
my eyes are wet pain.
I have nothing left in this garden but memories that make me cry,
memories of you and I, Cataleya,
memories of how the gardener plucked your root,
my blossoming piece of treasure trapped in the gardener's boot,
life will never be the same again in this garden;
if this were just memories that will make me cry-
Cataleya!