Water Lily
Water Lily
The puddle I slipped on
Had a water lily daughter,
Her skin was purple saffron
Blended with cream.
Her chest was gold,
Her heart verging crimson.
I eloped with her under the
Shade of the sun,
The puddle kept on looking with
Her belly growing green.
We crossed a lake
Full of salt on the
Back of finned water birds
As our ears ringed with
Cacophony of flocked gulls of the sea.
My water lily drooped
Tired onto my shoulder as her limbs grew limp on my earlobe.
All the hullabaloo, all the adrenaline of escape had weathered her down.
Nevertheless my love for her
Was a noble fume, unaffected by the tyranny of the elements around.
I ventured on, thinking her to be asleep, amid the thorns
Of the jungle, dodging beasts of rage, aiming for the haven on the alabaster beach.
As my toes tethered on the edge of the healing sand, I felt her
Breath growing ragged and slow. By the time I took her to
The lake of life, her crimson heart had chimed its last.
The fume I had thought to be my love, had been venom to her velvet veins.
The haven I had thought to be our home turned out to be the hell that demeans her soul.
As I buried her in the folds of my story, my eyes were dry.
The puddle had another bud jutting out,
This time with burgundy eyes.