Morning shows the day.
They say, wake up early in the morning,
And walk on the grass field
Bare feet.

I was walking
Touching the dewdrops with my toes
Hearing the whispers of the morning breeze
The bird songs,
I was trying to interpret.

“Tee-tee-hee”, “Tee-tee-hee “,
One of them said to me.
It seemed like ” There-is-something”, “There-is-something”,
I looked at my right.
There was a big Tagar tree.

Tagar, one of my favorite flowers.
I love to see flowers, appreciate their beauty, smell their fragrance.
But there are rarest of them
Whom I admire, for they are like the saints.

They have nothing to highlight their grace,
For they are surrounded with an aura around,
They have no smell,
Or perhaps, a mild one that
an ordinary person is unable to inhale.
But they have a glistening bunch of petals
And that’s enough
To make you mesmerized and amazed.

I collected the seedlings from the ground
They were shattered beneath the mother tree.
“I am taking your children home”
I said to the mother.
The branches danced in the breeze
As if the mother nodded her head, saying
“Take care of them like me.”

Maa and I planted them in a jar,
Turning it to a planter.
We watered them regularly,
nurtured them with utmost care.

A few days later, the first leaf raised his head,
Looked at the window, hugged her mother outside,
Both of them smiled.

After a few weeks, a tiny white bud appeared,
Like the only sister among the green brothers.
She waited to bloom, and one day,
It became a gracious flower
Another Tagar, looking at her mother,
With pride of inheritance.

Poet’s Note:

Tagar is a flower that is commonly seen in every household of Bengal. The English name of Tagar flower is Crape Jasmine. A starry flower when full-bloomed and a peary bud when it’s waiting for blooming into a flower, Tagar has a special place in my heart for I admire her beauty of simplicity.

(This post was created for the Blogaberry Creative (Monthly) Challenge.)