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A mystic rose smile that belonged to my mother this is what I recall   

My easel and I resting in the spirit,  by the grandeur of a morning tilt.  As the  
Yellow sunrays streak across the canvass, I think of Lamancha     
Saffron and mom's tasty soups.  Contentedly I paint away until a          
Ticklish breeze  brings me back to present stay. A lifetime away still I recall the     
Indian sari she wore with shades of orange/gold lamer.  Lustrous  hair pulled  
Carefully back, exposing two dark coaled eyes that shone like brightly lit topaz . 

Red carnelian sun in tonal ranges splashed across a tapestry of love   
Oxidized colors melding into the portraiture of Sahana, Matriarch of Bangalore.   
Smiling at the camera a thousand watts from Lalbagh Botanical Gardens.  Her  
Energy exhumed inside the sketch my recollecting fingertips  

Subservient hands cupping my tiny face, "My little turmeric " 
Maybe you'll be an artist some day, she spoke with her eyes  
I like to think she was the reason I succeeded. Her every word a  
Laud accolade.  I remember the day I held my first paintbrush   
Every time I pick one up today, I think of my mom and a village called Aluru .

November 19, 2021

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