THE FLOWERS SMILING AT US
They bloom in different colors – wine red, silky white, sun yellow, and pumpkin ash. All, buoyant display of a colour splashed painting. The rains give them life, the sun shows then the brighter side of the world and at night, the moon sings them a lullaby. I look at them and they smile at me. Am stunned, their smiles hold my gaze. I look at their petals, juicy and something close to fragile. They say flowers either, I have doubts about their smiles. I do not think they wither too.
I sit on this sofa in a pensive mood. The harmattan season is close. Moisture would be a luxury for the flowers. I am not sure of their survival but am sure of one thing – They would keep smiling even when enveloped in dust.
And when the rains come again and their smiles are fresh and soft, i will display them to the world in sun baked clay pots. I will arrange them so close to each other so that they can reach out and exchange their petals. Something adorable, something close to an inward eye which is the bliss of solitude.