Nisha

To Nisha

Garden flowers, slightly swaying

Humbly show their beauty

Asking nothing, growing, playing

Content to do their duty.

Then sky bequeaths a butterfly

And flower comes alive;

A friend! a burst of soul supply

As new emotions thrive

Fluttering here, alighting there

The shimmering wings reveal

A buried sense of magic flair,

A symbiotic deal.

But rhythms change, and unions break,

And butterflies take flight

And flowers droop, their petals ache

When friends move out of sight.

Yes, I’m the flower, butterfly,

Whose roots can’t soar away!

Though daughter’s gone, I won’t ask why

Sweet memories will stay.

Sept. 7, 2011