A Flower in My Hair

Today I wear a fresh flower in my hair,

My sweet sweetheart is here,

For the city, he left me asunder,

How I lived without him, I wonder;

Red florets I wore on our wedding night,

The gems he put in my hair under the moonlight,

Are the pressed blooms under my pillow,

How I slept without him, do you know?

Anita Bacha

Photo credit: Rajesh Swami

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Flowering

The flower doesn’t dream of the 🐝

It blossoms and the 🐝 comes

– Rumi

Quote of Rumi

Photo credit: Anita Bacha

These pictures were clicked by me last July at Borehamwood in England.

The A1 shooting group in Borehamwood is a family-run clay target shooting facility offering English Sporting, Olympic Trap and Helice.

Every summer, I visit the shooting ground with my family for the pleasure of holding a shotgun, and to enjoy a walk in the countryside.

I was happily surprised to find bumblebees in a bush on a sidewalk.

I stopped with my IPhone and caught some beautiful pictures of bumblebees romancing with flowers, undisturbed by the deafening sound of shooting. They were peaceful and happy, totally ignorant of the world around them.

The flowers, I observed, were not budding, new blooms or half blooms or full blossoms for that matter but withering flowers, some had lost their petals and others were dying.

Yet, see the magic of Nature, bumblebees were swarming around them, thirsting for their nectar.

Probably Nature wants to teach us a lesson, I thought, about women.

A woman, like a flower, never aged.

Sopping Flower 🌺

You open to me in the heat of the sun,

Your purple color runs in my veins,

Your beauty is a divine perfume,

My life is imbued with your quintessence;

Once you teach me how to dance,

We twirl and we swirl in the wind,

A joyous song in our heart,

Heedless of the hammering rain;

Secretly in the chill of dusk,

You fold your dying petals,

Enclosing me in the depth of your soul.

Anita Bacha

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Photo credit: Raj Swami

Altar Flowers

Yesterday’s close tight buds,

This morning ravishing full blooms,

Picked delicately from my garden,

Laid devoutly at your altar,

Shine their light like a hundred diyas,

A string of silent words,

An unwritten poem to my beloved.

Anita Bacha

Photo credit:Raj Swami/Rajasthan/India