A Taliban strangled Day..



The day was just deciding to squelch towards the morose zone

Glum as a groan from a Taliban strangled day, tottering in dread

Where ladders that hadn’t worked to climb up to that precious lost zone

Were strewn over the massacre of everything that made sense and was drying

Then that snickering, snuffling plant seller with his cart of always alluring

Treasures of ferns, cactus, ivies, Water Lilies, African Violets,

who had cheated me royally by selling red soil with more stones than mud

and more than a 100 plants, always over priced, often weak and infested


Had finally redeemed himself, a creeper he had given me was now a riot

of little lustrous pink, red, white flowers and a ladder of surplus silver greenery

Prancing over half the mesh above the garden, like a dance of delirious hope!

Begging to come home to the graveyard of the grotesque to begin planting again!

And every single cutting of the pink and white, green and white polka dots

Had come up in ten new pots, like very good children, to burnish the day!

Alongside the hibiscus little yellow sunshine cups, bearing good tidings!


Pics and text: daksha


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