Sparkle in Her Eyes

If I were a dewdrop, I'd wish I were a blossom. If I were a blossom, I'd wish I were a butterfly. If I were a butterfly, I'd wish I were a dewdrop. Where does all the wishing end? In a little house, where there is golden honey light, a wind-kissed garden, some star-woven lullabies, and Grandmother, laying the tapestry of tomorrow on the sandalwood table. And Aarohi, Aarohi, sitting at that table, eyes sparkling like monsoon rain on lotus leaves, wishing to be there.