One rainy morning,
Through a window open,
Subtruding in a creeper
Virid and lush, brushing past
Grills ferrous, slipping into my room,
All set to raid.
I nudged it aside,
With a twig dry,
It latched on to walls
On sides above,
Conceding defeat
Bailing out meekly.
Before long holy monsoons quit,
Summer now in the valley quiet,
Then a morning fine,
Sweet smell gatecrashed
My humble room,
Following hapless the trail scented,
All the way I reached my terrace,
The creeper had bloomed
Around narrow woody fences,
Its jasmine flowers had avenged
To raid my senses.
___
Sudha Srivatsan was born and raised in India. Worked in Middle East and London. Daughter, wife and sister. Aspiring to be known in the space of poetry as someone who weaves magic into language and combines unique design and strong color to her work of art. Work due to appear in the Indiana Voice Journal April 2015 issue, winner of poetry contests and shortlisted for the Mary Charman Smith November 2014 Poetry Competition.
