Stirring up childhood memories,
Sweet memories of my Mother and her beautiful garden,
The prized possession she treasured,
Instructing us not to pluck but to enjoy the sight as it bloomed,
And today I see the beautiful bleeding heart flower,
I miss my mother even more,
And wish I had wings to fly right back to where you are.
Picture courtesy : Tinku Sanasam
An Experimental attempt to put thoughts in writing by Monica Ingudam.