The Bougainvillea Tree
It stood on the other side of the wall rooted firmly
for the white bougainvillea tree did not belong to me
Wondered why it always branched this side
paving my walkway with blooms of white
While I patiently waited for my rose bush to flower
it nonchalantly continued its year-long showers
Unbothered unfettered by the gardener’s reaper, it grew
in every direction, old branches shooting off the new
Assiduously each day I tried to broom them away
but they, like a mother’s kisses were always there
Falling softly like advices from an old friend
they were fragile, paper-white, yet persistent
With gentle breeze they glide to me be it summer rain or spring
Innumerable, countless like God’s many blessings.
Copyright © Afroze Ali | Year Posted 2011
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