A Bud So Rare!

By Vishruti Singh

Strolling by the garden, I stopped by a bud!

A bud ready to blossom into a flower like other,

Yet it was unusual in its own sense,

A dainty yet an idyllic bud,

Suffering the harsh weather, toiling in the soil,

It was resplendent with its rare verdure,

but unaware!

As I approached to gaze and embrace that pristine presence,

I found out that it felt not whimsical but having lost its essence.

Customary to my routine, I was expected to move ahead..

But something made my heart pound,

And so I decided to resound

I asked, “What is it that irks you ? Why are you not grateful?”

The bud, startlingly replied with a human-story,

For it was a Story-Teller, yet again oblivious!

The boy in his story, fell in love with a girl.

‘A girl sweet in voice, fancy with words, and an appealing visage with curly hair!

The early phase went so quixotic,

Through the day, sticking together, drowning in love-story books felt exotic!

Mornings rose in delights and nights set with dreamy future,

Days turned weeks and weeks swelled into months as a couture,

Right when everything was in tone and resonated a life blessed,

She swapped herself out with questions left unaddressed

The boy broke down, alone in the room, he tried every noun,

Just when he needed her, she was out of even a frown,

Not once not twice not thrice but periodically

She came back but, every time knowingly ....

Just then the bud’s voice broke

The gardener sprinkled some solution and I saw that worm choke

The worm that draped itself around the bud in a warm stroke

I instantly recognised the love, the bud talked about

For it was he who was in pain when the worm didn’t turn around

I felt not to waste a moment and started to unfold the real events

“You know little bud, that worm came back only to drift again,

For it was not out of love,but to eat out of you, and that left you in pain,

Worms are not good for your healthy growth, for if it were...

The gardener wouldn’t have made the removal sure,

Just before you were to bloom!”

Worry not for it is just a vicissitude,

Necessary to see you in the fullest of pulchritude,

Remember when it is to potential, you are your limit

You made it till here, as you are no dimwit.

Blossom, as no one would have ever seen,

Blossom, as you are the ‘rare-beauty’ of this scene!

By Vishruti Singh