I picked a seed on my way side
From a worthy yard of a lord
And put it safe in my lonely
heart.
I watered it with love and
passion.
I warmed it with care and
concern.
A hard coated, it took long to
burst.
Under the shade, it struggled
to emerge.
By rain of lust and draught of
guilt
Was the plant beset but not
upset.
It grew to a bush with the
entire blush.
Came in the spring; Went out
the Spring.
No bloom. No blossom. No flower.
Yet leaves are rosy like
petals.
A croton as it is, I shall
harbour it.
For its colourful leaves at
least.
1.10.2000, Madras
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