LITTLE FLOWER IN A FURROW

 I was passing by,
One morning,
 A little flower in a furrow
 I saw, peeping at me;
Soft lavender color,
Tender and fragile,
 Flaunting four tiny petals,
A miniscule golden ball,
Her belly button;
Mesmerized, I watched,
Wondered,
Chuckled;
I wanted to touch her,
With my moistened lips,
Caress her glossy folds;
To-morrow!
I cried out and hurried my steps;
Following sunrise,
The furrow was barren,
My eyes wept for her;
In a puddle,
Pale, on her tummy,
 Lifeless and floppy,
The little flower
Floated in rain water;
 Queen for a day, memorable forever,
She won the heart of a joker.

Anita Bacha

https://m.facebook.com/Ani.Bacha/

 

Listen

 

 Listen to the tears of a woman

Listen to the scent of roses

Her tears gently caress the roses

They are the last blooms of this summer

She is the last rose of this summer

Listen to the wind blowing

Listen to the rustle of leaves

Her hair sings wooing with the leaves

They are the last leaves of this summer

 She is the last leaf of this summer

 Listen to the beat of your selfish heart

Listen to your tears

They slip madly on the body of a woman

They are the last tears that you shed this summer

She is the last woman you’ll ever love

Listen to the rain

Listen to the drops that water the plain

They wash immaculately the dust of summer

It is the dust of last summer

Listen to the man you’ve become

Listen to your soul

So you will know the true meaning of love

Anita Bacha