The blazing Shalmali
standing upright facing my porch is loaded with gaudy red flowers today
She looks beautiful
The flowers, they're clinging to the branches like a toddler clutches his mother's finger in a busy market
Or a father's jacket (for that matter)
Basking in vulnerability
The fear of getting stomped by a stranger
And never picked up or caressed again
Is sweeping between the stretch
Where ground awaits their fall
But she's no human
To turn herself into a poisonous hemlock at the touch of disdain
Or blame the mere pedestrians
She continues to drop her jewels one by one for children to kick and mowers to hurl
Consequently they fall and
Their existence become a shrewd reminder
That they're a product of God's perpetual nature of overdoing things.
-Nirmali Medhi
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This one is too good...