The unheralded sojourn of blooms and silky pollen dust, the accomplice, ever so often tugging along with your thoughts, tiptoed from beckoning byways of a distant past and moved to my quiet forsaken nights. Life had issued an edict ordering your permanent tenancy in my heart.

A hushed song poking through blossoming bougainvillaea hanging across my windowpane furling and flourishing in an exquisite dance meandered and rattled about my house.

My resistance fell by the wayside. Devoured by it, having been unable to set my face against the temptation, I plonked on the cobbled path. There was a fat chance to abolish the laws of dreamy ornate seasons. I ducked and dived. In process of time, with each passing day, the ambrosia of the inevitable scented season grows more on you.

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Published by Smita Ray

Smita Ray is a mother of two lovely kids and hails from the northeastern town of India Gorakhpur. Her perpetual displeasure arising from the hypocrisy in the society underneath the semblance of religion, culture as well as the conditioning for compliance urged her to put down the impressions in her mind. In her spare time, she likes to have some culinary adventures with her kids.

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