The Flower
- Sarah Coilao
The Flower
When I consider what my love is like,
I seek among the rushes and the reeds
Of greens and browns, and sober reds more gay,
Perceiving that among the boundless ways
Of watered farms and fields, and arching canopies,
There must be voice and form and pith
That gives the substance of detail
To joys I feel, in blind imagery.
But all the wealth of scenes, The light infinitude of skies,
Cannot subtract the sense
That sees with perfumed scents
What we love most - the little flower; The petals fresh and virginal,
The pistil’s strength of purity,
The bobbing stamens, like curling locks, The downcast head upon its modest stem;
All forms find essence in these shapes Of incomparable delicacy,
To remind me of my love for man,
Who loves me as if I were his flower.
And we both with our destiny,
United as the flowers whose fate is fruit, Will die as they, content to wither out
The light which kissed us into one small seed And upon the wind brought scents
Of our spiritual mate.
Sarah Michelle Coelho
567, 16th A Main, 3rd Block,
Koramangala, Bangalore - 560 0034
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