Jasmine

 

When the evening sets in, the smell of

Her wet hair and worn out saree blends

So perfectly with the handful of jasmines

In her lap, skillfully preparing a small garland 

For me and a bigger one for my sister.

She would adorn our neatly combed hair

With the fragrance of intertwined dreams

And a memory that could survive until eternity.

When the flower dies she takes them off 

A little sad for everything that once bloomed

Must die a lonely death one day.

Years later, we laugh out loud as the night changes

Engulfing us in nostalgia and uncertain futures

I, with my messy buns still love the fragrance

That finds its away through the window

From her garden of love, and her with

Her wrinkled smiles never stopped 

Blooming inside my heart so gracefully.