The Flower and the Cactus

Author:

H.Sanbika is medically oriented by degree though she's not practicing it currently, Her passion on scribbling thoughts dragged her here.

“Therefore, have done with this nonsense: you have no ground for hope: dismiss, at once, these hurtful thoughts and foolish wishes from your mind, and turn to your own duty, and the dull blank life that lies before you. You might have known such happiness was not for you.”
― Anne Brontë, Agnes Grey

The Flower and the Cactus

A flower she is reared in the forest

She freely lives shaded by the trees

The earths' bosom makes her bloom

As well as the sun makes her shine

The showering rain makes her gleam

And the damp soil makes her beautiful

She sleep in deep slumber unaware of an intruder

Who will rattle her solitude under her peaceful abode

He was a stranger, a time's passenger

A sturdy cactus he is, dwelling in the wilderness

Her heart betrayed her, for not long thereafter

She had fallen for him, a very stupid whim

To her heart's dictate she loved him at stake

And tried hard to reach that place where he is

But it was an awful place and even merciless

The heat was very hard it left her very tired

She begins to wilt as strength abandons her

She's in grave pain, everything's in vain

As she fainted from thirst, with thorns she was pierced

She lay there dying wishing for the spring

I truly pitied her, much as cried for her

How could I not since she was my heart

That failed to survive

In your desert - like heart

“From my window I watched the full moon—a moon that reminded me of Brett—become shadowed, little by little until there was only a deep blackness in the woods at night. I would sit there wakeful, hour after hour, and wonder if this aching around my heart, this sense of being alone, forlorn and unwanted in a world where there was gayety and love for others of my age, was going to continue for all of my days.”
― Irene Hunt, Up a Road Slowly