Comment on this post (About whether something is or isnt love) by Braja of Lost and Found in India
Blinded by the color,
Crushing a smiling blade of grass,
refusing to smell the flowers,
Turning up a nose
at the Rose,
She blindly forges ahead...
The fruit, languid on the branch
ahead, beckons,
She takes a leap
Into the lap of a branch,
Heavy with fruit, she leans back,
And the branch crackles,
Thudding back on the ground...
The little boy who carefully
limbered up, watering the grass,
playing with the Rose,
smiling at the squirrel,
Sits on another branch
swinging his legs,
And wonders,
Who is happier ?
Eclipse
2 weeks ago
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