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
Photo credit: Raj Swami