She blooms in the embrace
of the unencumbered cold.
Her radiance
enthralls, enchants, and he
is smitten.
She gets
a little water, a little sun and
she glows,
for a time he is glad.
But the turn of the monsoon
brought different winds,
that summer she wilted away.
“He tries: a little water
a little sun, a little
too late”
For love,
like her,
is only red for a season.