Secrets Of The Hidden Pond

By Akash Kumar Mishra

I was a pond, murky and still, ignored.  

Silted with silence,

Too shallow for reflection.  

Then she bloomed

A lotus, uninvited but divine.  

She didn't just grow in my mess;  

She owned it, beautified it,  

Drew eyes, praise, even poetry I hadn’t written yet.  

And just as the world gathered 'round,  

Someone plucked her.  

And I was a pond again 

Dirt. Still. Forgotten.

But let me confess:  

I have seen eyes that outshine butterfly wings,  

Hair that falls more flawless than silvered streams,  

Lips that humble roses,  

Cheeks blooming softer than cherries,  

And a perfume that lingers longer than vanilla warmed by the sun.

This is about a garden

One lovelier than any that blooms on this earth,  

A garden that lives forever.  

Her color, her fragrance, her presence still echo in me,  

A vibrant contrast to the older silence,  

A reminder that even if it doesn’t grow in my yard,  

I always find a way to open my window  

And marvel at its beauty.

By Akash Kumar Mishra