Of Gulmohar Trees and Old Energies

Once, there was a smile, a smile that greeted her in.

And once, there was a hand, a hand that held her steady.

And once, there was you.

Little hands scooping fallen flowers of the Gulmohar tree,

A little girl with a spirit so free.

She ran past the trees, her hair matching the colours of the gulmohar flower

With shades of red and shades of brown

Her bare feet and footsteps with no sound.

Years later, her little girl

Matches her hair, to the same gulmohar flower.

Her laugh echoes an old melody

Her smile reflects an old memory.

She still collects those red and orange flowers
And kisses thoughts of you,

Of Gulmohar Trees and of Old energies.