I picked a seed on my way side
From a worthy yard of a lord
And put it safe in my lonely heart.
I watered it with love and passion.
I warmed it with care and concern.
A hard coated, it took long to burst.
Under the shade, it struggled to emerge.
By rain of lust and draught of guilt
Was the plant beset but not upset.
It grew to a bush with the entire blush.
Came in the spring; Went out the Spring.
No bloom. No blossom. No flower.
Yet leaves are rosy like petals.
A croton as it is, I shall harbour it.
For its colourful leaves at least.
1.10.2000, Madras
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem