By the onset of aging season, <br />The flowers of my early youth, <br />Were rescued from mortal life, <br />With deliverance granted by time, <br />Hence I lost my primary appeal. <br /> <br />Body that once swayed gently, <br />To the touch of infant winds, <br />Grew old to resist all tempests, <br />Only to be axed and exploited, <br />The second chance, hence seized. <br /> <br />My deep rooted ageless love <br />Takes a third option and surfaces <br />From the dark bowels underground <br />Secretly snaking through the concrete <br />Lattice of your modern age abode. <br /> <br />Clutching a handful of dirt terrain <br />Left unnoticed on your window sill <br />Where sunlight beats the skyscrapers <br />And barely manages to chance upon, <br />I emerge as a miniscule pastoral island. <br /> <br />When worldly pleasures exhaust <br />If at all the lavish interiors suffocate, <br />Once bright, tinted walls begin to flake, <br />And you open this window for a change <br />You will find me waiting, to please your sight.<br /><br />Seema Aarella<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/evergreen-5/
