a poem by P.K.N. Panicker, India

The little blue flowers
that pop out
from the wrong side of the hedgerow
are no less dear to me
than the books
that pop out of my shelf,
the blossomed red rose,
the water fountain in my garden
and the welcoming smile
on the lips of my beloved,
the warmth of her embrace,
everything that goes
to kindle a spark of light within.

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