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.