Ode to Plantis – An indoor plant reigning over my writing table

Plantis dearest

 

You, when first you came by, you were little and solitary. You refused my company, perhaps out of haughtiness and pride? But I wouldn’t blame you, for you, indeed, were most lovely, being the only living thing amidst my table and chair made of dead teak, and my books and papers of dead pine and eucalyptus. 

Your fragrance drew me to you like a butterfly lover. Your calming green caught my fancy, it did. Your silent presence comforted me. I came to you with stories of sunny romances, I watered you with my tears shed upon lost lovers, I even sprinkled your soil with my sighs and kisses, and I serenaded you in the quiet of the night.

You were a patient listener, a friend I never had. You opened up to me, one tiny leaf at a time. 

You taught me the grace of silent growth. 

You showed me the beauty in solitude. 

You whispered to me the secret of being – to embrace the soil where one is planted, to be the most beautiful being that soil ever knew. 

You told me then that being alone isn’t so bad, when in truth you have you. 

Falling star

(c) Google search

Dearest, remember last December night

when a forlorn star fell from the sky?

And even as it beautifully burned,

it left a trail of ashes behind.

You followed the star as it faded from sight

and I followed a tear that rolled down your eye.

Dearest, I had so much to tell you then

but my words were lost in that view

where the star had fallen and died

and I, too, fell and died for you.

Story #2– Dear humans…

(c) Google image search

Drunk on power, men thought that theirs is the world.

Another forest is felled. This was the third in a row. Not a crumb of food is seen as far as the eyes can go.