Where Spring Lived in Mother’s Hands (Poem)

Where Spring Lived in Mother’s Hands

-Manasa Reddy Chichili

Those flowers had hearts of yellow,
Some shimmered in shades of moonlight.

Some held within themselves
The deep green hues of the ocean.

Some smiled like dancing flames,
Some wore the grace of silk skirts,
And others seemed to spread
Their wings of silver moonlight.

At the end of every winter,
Mother, you and I would sit together,
Choosing newer and newer colours
From the catalogue of flower seeds.

We never needed a calendar
To tell us when spring had arrived;
The moment those flowers blossomed,
We knew that spring was here.

On blue-sky mornings,
When dewdrops sparkled like tiny stars,
I would walk into the garden with you.

The little crackling sound
Of flower stems being cut,
The longing to gather all those colours
Inside a glass bottle
And show them to you…

I would carry them to school,
Wandering from one classroom to another.

I found myself reading
The beauty of those flowers
Far more deeply
Than the lessons in my books.

Dewdrops rested upon their petals,
The fragrance of rain lingered around them.
Oh, how beautiful
My little world once was!

Wherever I cut the stems,
The flowers would release
The moisture they held within,
Then draw new life once again
From the loving arms of nature.

And you, Mother, would simply watch with a smile…

Flowers rested in your hands,
While spring blossomed in my eyes.

I never knew back then
That something far more beautiful
Than all those flowers
Was walking right beside me.

Those springs return again,
Those flowers bloom once more…

But the childhood days
When I gathered them with you, Mother,
Will never return.

I never truly understood back then…

How blessed I was
To have you beside me.

*****