It is the season of a hundred flowers
And yet she turns thin and pale.
The cuckoo sings out a lusty song
Swinging from the branches of the rain tree
Whose leaves droop, portending showers.
Moving gently, she sighs like the breeze,
Her heart heavy with love,
Much like the hair that flows down her back,
Like a creeper that resembles rain-charged clouds.
The lingering smell of frangipani is so seductive
That her memories are overwhelmed and pulverized
In an instant in to fragrant dust.
The sun sets indifferently,
Making her acutely aware of her distant love.
Strong winds and an intense darkness,
She tosses and turns restlessly in her bed.
Day after day, she lies awake and gasps with longing
Like a swallow waiting for her mate.
Wounded, she curses the wind for ravaging her garden
Wishing instead that autumn would come quickly
And dull the pain that comes from burying a love
Under the burden of sheets and scruples.


About Amrita Ghosh

About Moi - I like to think I am a simple person while most people tend to disagree. I like lots of things, sometimes quite contrary ones, a
This entry was posted in Autumn, Daily Life, Emotions, Experiences, Life, longing, Love, Memories, Musings, My Life, Nostalgia, poem, Poetry, rain, Random pieces of Moi, Random Thoughts, Reflections, Relationships, Thoughts. Bookmark the permalink.

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