Oxalis

         

I stare at a tiny pink bloom,

Fulgurant on the Farm –

Hiding shyly along leaves

Crawling on the greens.

 

After Spring’s initial euphoria,

The magnolia, sakura and peach

Have all withered away –

I was happy to see a new tinge of blush

 

And then, I found its name –

Oxalis, ‘a weed’, said Google,

And I kept staring

In a noon of disbelief

 

Who gets the right

To call you a weed, I wondered

Just because you came

From somewhere far away?

The colours, the outburst

The resilience to withstand –

The ability to stand,

Does none of this matter?

 

This world –

A strange palace of recognition

Has little time

For a vagabond’s life

 

Back at the Farm,

The joggers run,

The bikers zoom

The afternoon sun begins to pale

 

No one notices

A tiny pink flower,

Bringing contrast

To a meadow of forever’s green…