The Innocent Love

Chapter six.

F O R E V E R 2.0

I a 2-year-old Dianthus sown last year before the first sleet

of spring. A 10-inch-tall creeping groundcover dressed in flamboyant tones of salmon and white blooms with the incense of clove and cinnamon hints.

My sparsely starry florets and slender foliage make

me a gardener's delight for ornamental choices.

Meet me there,dangling down the walls in a unique

flair, pasted like a berry glass cover on rocks or in the

flower beds burgeoning nine times faster than morel mushrooms. I am also a balcony baby as cottage

chiclets in specks of blue and green

Under the full sun, I grow in distinct forms of slime. I am

quite foolproof to the delicate twists of deer yet appear to handily come under the whiffs of white rabbits. You can munch my petals or season me with a handful of crystallized sugar for clothing fritters. I am a certificate of gratitude, a relic of regard and even a Gajra bridged with crossandra beads he trims in her hairs as a ribbon of love

I hold an extended list of events and fictions all through my life till now. Let me title them down as follows;

• Horse-ride with honeybees

• Autumn in April

• Too far from fair

• With water-currents

• Forever 2.0 ( the one I'm trying to recount here)

One spring sundown it was raining heavily and I was

bouncing to the beat of raindrops behind my owner in

a garden bed and all of a sudden a lad with curly hairs succeeded towards me. He commenced inspecting my

petals as if he was more worried about them, bucked up

and had some words with my owner, the next moment my owner plucked me gently, tied up in a wreath and delivered

me to him. I was mum, massive with moisture, missing my yard and my other buddies.It was a 20 minute walk and we reached an old beautiful hut.The boy pulled me out from the basket of his motorcycle, carrying me in hand he walked towards the hut. On entering a lovely lady opened the fence, her face was flashing like a harvest moon!

The boy opened my covers and took me out. And then

started to scrape me into parts, I was broken and my little florets were weeping rains for we were nearing the end but then he picked us one by one, embellished in the pretty lady's hairs and a sense of affection ran down my veins.

I can't articulate the feeling but the gap between the

touch of his hands and night wisps of her hairs had a

sundae sunset sheet of their affair.

Just for about a week, I had the green salad days of life

but all through, their infinite golds of devotion made me

forget the vision of wilt and I even don't remember that

perfect moment when my colour went off and I got dull

and withered!

Getting every night endowed in her hairs by his hands,

being slightly pressed under a kiss at her forehead was

more than a thick line of life and death to me. And even

now when I'm scorched in spells of dryness and my glamour is no more the same he still picks me up, adorns me in her hairs and blows me a kiss in the same subtle press!

I never felt like I shrivelled and my perfume dried up

I was 2 years old when he drew me from the garden and I

still am the same, maybe 2.0 just some nights more when I yearned for love, more like them!

"Love can be your inertia for days, it can be a thousand

years for others but it can unknowingly be "a forever" for

the ones that come and go in-between".