Lily Letters of Jasmine
Dear grandma,
you were my litchi s u n r i s e,
encasing stars in honeydew of h e a l i n g,
as d a w n s used to wake up
from deep s l u m b e r with
silken humming of your jasmine p r a y e r s.
Your almond eyes
have always
armoured our
rhymeless roots,
with humble rays
of light and
gentle shimmers
of philosophical
fountains,
that calmed
every lake
sterling with
fire and ice.
I evermore
reminisce those
twinkling dusks
with sanguine stories
of Hansel and Gretel,
narrated by your
angelic notes,
but, what if Gretel
had lost her
way within
cobwebs of
enchanted
cocktail woods?
Along shorelines
of Snow white
and Rose Red,
perhaps, truths
of ephemeral life,
remained unheard.
Like a timeless tree,
you've withstood
every thunderstorm,
as we sought shelter
in your oak-embrace,
then, why are
those aging skies
becoming an
embroidery of
fleeting memories
and erasing that
golden aura
of divinity from the
hibiscus temple,
homed in your essence?
I still remember
when you held
my tiny hands
in your warmth,
and helped me
trace those
pencilled butterflies
hiding behind
lily-letters of mischief,
twisting like
tickling riddles.
Oh, how your
heart would melt
like the butterscotch moon,
in swirling streams
of my silly giggles.
Remember,
when you knitted
a soft sweater
crocheted with a
patchwork of teddy bears
for this wintry toddler?
I still wrap it
around my
aching heartbeats
like a milky shawl,
midst cashmere snow.
But, mum has now
lost her doll house
of dreams,
can you please
freeze time and
scold these
decades for
stealing away
our hopes and
innocence?
I promise to
hold my tears
in an inkless saga
of metaphors,
until you've
caressed us
with the
same adoration,
from a million
comets ago.
You were the only
grand anchor
of golden guardian
for me,
like a glorious
godmother
shielding her
newborn fairy -
then why did
your eyes forsake to
search for my presence?
Evergreen warmth
of your soul
shall forever breathe
in grandeur ~
for, our sights
can never imagine
to live in the absence,
of your wisdom-realms.
Even though
you don't recall
my existence
and maybe,
have become
unfamiliar
of my name;
every year,
I will wish
for stardusts
to glaze your
horizons that
have ruffled
in wrinkles of
fainted nostalgia,
for, I will forever sleep
on the custard-
cushions of your
cherishing love.
Copyright © Hiya Sharma | Year Posted 2024
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