Little Yellow Flower


I am a little flower
With tiny petals
As yellow as the sun rays
That nourish me
I grow without much fuss
Between the jagged pavement stones
Or along a dusty pathway
Cheering the traveller
With my ready smiles

I longed to be taken
To a warm home
And be placed in a marble vase
I longed to be pinned
To a woman's hair
By her man
I longed to be made into garlands
To adorn stone gods
And deck shy brides

On a warm evening
Young lovers came by
The boy took the vain rose
In spite of her barbs
And gave it to the pretty lass
She held it close to her heart
I wondered why he didn't take me
The thorn dug into her fingers
And she yelped in pain

Every morning
The priest came by
And took the white jasmines
Though she was cold
And frail
To adorn his god
I wondered why he didn't take me
By evening the flowers turned brown
And looked forlorn

One stormy evening
A traveller came along
With a heavy load
And a heavier heart
He stopped to rest
He groaned and moaned
And cursed
"I can't go on" he screamed
"The world hates me"," I'm worthless"

I smiled at him
At first he didn't see me
I continued smiling brightly
He stared at me
He kept staring
And then he smiled
With tears in his eyes
He picked up his load (which was halved now)
And walked away

And I stopped wondering




Poetry by Rijutha
Read 639 times
Written on 2011-11-30 at 13:49

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A most enjoyable piece, Rijutha.
Having composed a few ditties myself on certain flowers, I like very much the characterisations here. And the concluding lines reinforce my abiding view that flowers bring most joy to the soul in their natural habitat.
Incidentally, my lady has oft been named an English rose, but she is of a thornless variety and lacking in vanity. Frankly, she can be downright scruffy at times.
Applaudeth.
2011-11-30