Sometimes, some people,
grow on you.
At times, these people,
vouch for you.
Ideas, spring forth in mind!
Tokens of time spend,
words blend,
crude emotions, not pretend!
Ideas; like chalk marks on blackboard,
self written; inspired.
Erasable by hand
but not by mind!
Thorny stems in adolescent ages
bloom with roses; their courtesy.
Budding from the tranquility in their eyes –
tumbling with unclassified love!
The roses must wilt,
thorny still!
Buds may grow again
watered by the same wave of inspiration.
But their reluctance
to stem in our minds, again,
draws from that first;
memories of that first rose!
The Roses must ultimately go –
into other men’s minds,
or dressed into their pockets,
or in their living rooms,
or in crowded workspaces!
What keeps life moving
is the greenery that proliferates,
the colors that glorify,
the scent that mystifies,
the memories that co-exist
with that first bud of inspiration!
These people, at all times,
live in you.
Like a part of you.
Among those ugly thorns
that you seldom hesitate to despise!
These people, wherever they are,
thrive in you.
Soluble memories of a drunken past
with an abstruse propaganda
to save you,
to lead you,
like an undecipherable halo!
- Sree
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