The butterflies have all gone..
They used to flutter in this dark jar..
The swing on which red tulips,
Rose and sunk, is also in siesta.
Drunk in a more somber elixir.
All fences plucked out themselves.
Merging the great reds and whites,
Entwining to some sparkly rosé…
Not too sweet– not too dry.
Its a perfect toast to swoon,
for twilight decked in new moon.
With some silent embers to keep,
the sands, quaintly warm for sunsets.
The butterflies have all gone..
They have beckoned the dawn.
Gathered nectar blooms of all,
Seasons shared.
The butterflies have all gone…
They brought a sunshine in this dark jar..
And the red tulips are no more fond of swings,
A lazy reverie in shaded hammock is loved.
Shashikala Sasidharan
All (c)rights reserved as on 22/1/2014
An evocative work that accentuates the meditative.
Thankyou so much ..Louis….I feel honored by your kind words…☺️
Shashi.. absolutely creative…
Thanks for the loving words…
nice:)
Thankyou Dr Annie ☺️