A Mystic Rose Smile
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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