With the passage of time
and circumstance,
I have become an immigrant—
now living in
El Dorado California,
far away from
my native land
I have made this place
my home,
trying to bloom here.
But when spring arrives,
I feel nostalgic.
I think of the woodland
at the edge of paddy fields
near my village.
It must be ablaze
with neon-orange clusters
of palash flowers.
They carry no fragrance,
yet the spectacle
is mesmerizing.
You can’t help
but be enchanted.
Parrots must be feeding on them,
below, cattle and goats grazing.
We used to collect the flowers
to make colors for Holi.
They were a part
of my joyful childhood—
in bucolic India
It still bring warmth
and stirs nostalgia.
As a tribute to it
I made this watercolor art.
About the Creator
Seema Patel
Hi, I am Seema. I have been writing on the internet for 15 years. I have contributed to PubMed, Blogger, Medium, LinkedIn, Substack, and Amazon KDP.
I write about nature, health, parenting, creativity, gardening, and psychology.
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Welcome to our first Winners Announcement of the year and to the final challenge in the Fall Poetry Series. The Last Flame invited writers to sit with endings, using fire as a central image to consider what remains when something burns out: ash, warmth, memory, silence, or the faint promise of what comes next. The strongest pieces treated endings as gradual rather than sudden, allowing them to flicker, dim, and linger.
By Vocal Curation Team4 days ago in Resources
Comments (2)
Lovely 🌹😍
I love flowers! Thank you for writing about flowers! Wonderful work!