A land afar with winds that seem,

To tell a thousand tales.

Splintered hopes, shattered dreams,

Arid peaks and barren vales.

 

No rainbows come, no clouds drift by,

No birds here sing a tune.

The valley’s quiet, as is the sky,

The flowers no more bloom.

 

A time there was, the rain would fall,

From the heavens up above.

The fields were lush, they’d stare enthralled,

Lavender, blooms of love.

 

Blossoming, swaying to and fro,

As though in tune to song.

In jamboree, the wind would blow,

And merrily dance along.

 

A night it was, as none before,

Like gleaming ebony.

No lustrous moon, yet light galore,

A wondrous sight to see.

 

As though the sparkle in their eyes,

Could light a thousand nights.

As though in lieu of stars in skies,

A love shone brilliant bright!

 

Then through the blooms, they’d run unbound,

As though were chasing dreams.

The air was filled with jocund sound,

And rainbow hues were seen.

 

The promises, the vows they took,

Amidst the fluttering fields.

Echoed off the vales and brook,

The oath of love revealed!

 

It was a love, untainted, pure,

As innocent as youth.

No greed or malice, lies or lure,

Just everlasting truth.

 

Then came a day, it seemed the sun,

Had risen but for her.

All was dark, nothing shone,

The light did not appear.

 

A journey, long to undertake,

A quest he must fulfil.

Into her waiting arms, he laid,

Lavender, from the hill.

 

“Eternal as the splendour of,

These ferns you hold, my dear.

Our love, our hearts will gladden oft,

And keep us ever near.”

 

The lips she’d kissed a thousand times,

Then trembled as they touched,

Her eyes as dark as moonless nights,

Unknown afore, a pain as much.

 

She waited days, she waited nights,

Whilst watched the brilliant blooms.

Hoping and wishing that they might,

Bestow a blessing soon.

 

Sometimes in vivid dreams she’d see,

Him smiling from afar.

Holding, as glorious as could be,

Blooming lavender flowers!

 

“Pray come my love, for it is spring,

The fields lush like before.

The sunlit morn, the robin sings,

And I yearn at my door.

 

The others, they have long returned,

But you have not appeared.

We wait and long, me and my ferns,

When will you come my dear?”

 

Yes, he came, but his heart,

Alas! Was cold as ice.

The lips so still, they would not part,

Nothing would entice!

 

Then the rain was pouring down,

As though the skies were weeping too.

It seemed all would be lost and drowned,

Before she’d ever bid adieu.

 

“Do not leave, oh do not go,

These ruthless winds that blew.

I cannot bear, cannot endure,

Pray take this broken heart with you!”

 

She wept, she touched, she held him near,

And then she placed o’er,

His lifeless eyes, drenched with her tears,

Wilted buds of lavender.

 

                                                                  ~ Rrashima Swaarup Verma

                                                                  Gurgaon, India