And I have flowers in a green back ground.
Your stars don’t become fruits,
But my flowers become fruits with seeds.
He smiled and replied,
It’s my sunlight sweetheart,
Acting as a catalyst,
And without that,
You can’t perform this magic.
I smiled and said,
I am a compromise of blue and green.
She whispered in my ears,
My Child! it’s not compromise,
It’s love!
A butterfly when listened to,
All this conversation,
She interrupted.
You all forgot me,
It’s me,
You the ignorant ones,
I arranged this courtship,
And arranged this love!
Who is that butterfly,
The colors are flying,
All my senses,
Are getting something,
My weak eyesight,
With the help of glasses,
When saw the butterfly,
I dashed to embrace,
I jumped to kiss,
But I cannot fly.
Do you know?
Who was that lovely butterfly?
That left me alone,
And flown somewhere!
You are my friend,
I can tell you everything.
I can guess,
I too had a butterfly,
She was my teen age!
(Being inspired by a post seen on Valsa George’s page on the Facebook)
Thinking, ‘Ain’t I sly’
No truthfulness whatsoever,
Yet, this goes on forever,
As, hope in the future, dies