A young, fresh bloom,

Of a new flower, born in spring.

Produced from within her mother’s tender womb,

A song, her heart rings.


O, little one, how lively she played,

With her peers under the sun.

And as the evenings came,

A tune, her heart hummed.


And yet, looking back,

How her days were full of glee.

How sad, though, there came a crack;

and her heart stopped singing happily.


A crack; reiterated.

It appeared at home one day,

From that day on her heart stiffened.

It fell, for metres, miles, all the way


    down,

        sinking deeper,

            and further descend

                into the deepest pits of hell.


Flames roar in a crescendo.

Crackling,

laughing,

mocking.


At the heart, heavy as a boulder.

It left a trail as it was dragged along the path.

Along the school corridor, along the road on the way back.

Home, where the trail grew wide and deep,

Until it firmly stood, anchored, in the bedroom.


And it stood, for a while,

A long while.

On occasion, it would soften,

It was just for a moment, though.


Time waits for no man,

Days, months, years went by.

Stillness pervaded, until one day,

A small sprout came, along with a butterfly.


Anecdote