Tending the Flower of My Love
written by: Pramod Rastogi
Drying up is the waterfall of my love;
The rain has long denied it breath.
Yet the breeze still lofts my passions,
And my thoughts, steeped in your scent,
Crave once more to cross your path.
Unlike my love’s rapturous fire,
Which left in me an indelible mark,
My soul lay huddled within her grace,
Lost to the elegance I adored,
Consumed in the flame I bore for her.
Alas, so ignorant was I in love,
To see not that some flowers bloom
Not through constant tender care,
But through the gift of space and air,
Their freedom the secret of their bloom.
I have tended you, my dearest love,
In the flowerbed of my heart,
And set melodies upon a scroll
To be sung by the mirror, in awe,
Before your crystalline charms.
I miss the peals of your laughter,
That made my solitude smile,
And lent my life a sudden ardor
To embrace the darkening night
With the glow of memory’s fire.
Now, in my broken, distant life,
I keep a candle of hope alight
And leave my heart forever ajar,
For you to slip in, one last time,
Before the night turns into dawn.
- Tending the Flower of My Love - February 4, 2026
- Spotlight On Writers – Pramod Rastogi - January 17, 2026
- A Lover’s Agony - October 7, 2025
