Poem: Jasmine

A fragrance is wafting,
In the early morning sun,
Its leaves are swaying,
Movements are synchronizing.

Little hamlets living in peace,
No meandering through noisy streets,
In each bud and leaf,
There is a tiny monastery.

In the company of other flowers,
The joys leak to a distant future,
Which man foresees,
To the bottom of a worthy past.

Silvery pale,
Moon’s shadow on a pool,
Little bulbs,
Each depicting an image,
Insuperable beauties;
Tiny tresses of hair, green leaves, green cuts.

In their animated world,
There is no hegemony, anarchy,
They had been abjured, defied,
All that there is,
Is simple harmony.

In my blissful oblivion,
They hear my steps,
Bow their heads,
As if to hide from me,
And from all society.

S.Padmapriya