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