By Moonmoon Chowdhury
The polka-dotted butterflies
promenade in my winter garden,
sculpting snow blossoms
splashing yellows &reds
into the monochrome canvas.
I drink the nectarine stories
drizzling from Granny’s pitcher,
and soak in the afternoon sun
swaddling our childhood home,
and tiptoe into the courtyard
where marinated mangoes
sunbathe in glass jars.
I breathe in the intoxicating
fragrance of milky jasmines
twinkling in the silver bowl
on Grandpa’s study table,
and fish for yellow and red
candies in his pockets,
reserved only for me.
I wake up to greyness
drilling into my weary bones,
in my inanimate lawn,
the butterflies are all gone.
Moonmoon Chowdhury is an Indian poet currently based in the Netherlands. Her work has previously appeared or is forthcoming in Borderless Journal, Tell Me Your Story, A second cup of tea by The Hive publishers, The Pine Cone Review, Sylvia magazine, Sonic Boom Journal, Amethyst Review, Last Leaves, Sixpence Society Literary Journal, and elsewhere.
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