Am I not beautiful?
Proclaims the ‘She’..
In drowsy eyes of her vanity sleep, she chirps a song unknown,
Of bits of love and lovers some-
The sun, the leaves and the yet unborn..
Of chlorophyll nights and Osmosis filled days
She shrugs from modesty to desire
“Be kind will you, and serve me my needs of butterflies”
A game of pollination thus begun,
As lovers unabashed watered her desires,
In sprinkles of sun and rain,
And thus in her priceless-ness she ruled
From love, to slavery-
She turned from tending schools of mankind
That Gobbled the likes of her..
From horror draughts to ‘forget me nots’
She played the game to perfection
Until the gardener of Eden decided..
‘Women and poppies..thou art complex creatures’..
© 2011 Maitreyee Bhattacharjee Chowdhury
( Image courtesy Google)