The flowers peep through the window,
the four petals delicate and white,
seem to enter with a haste,
pull back after a second thought.
They do not raise their heads,
seek to hide, reticent to confront visitors.
I regard them with an intense fee,l
my ears turn deaf to the exchanges.
The blossoms on the foliage
the white against the green.
Serve a backdrop to the spacious room
tiled in black and white.
Lost in the simple beauty in front of me
miss the dialogues that take place.
They bear no significance when juxtaposed
with the eternal beauty I behold.
Meenas Poems 