On the first night of spring,
My petals begin to dream
Like an ornate orb— the full moon shines.
As I bloom, I fear
For my fragrance shall near
An awaited enchantress— her concern for years.
People fear her black tear,
Her cold gaze, scarlet lips,
Ebony black hair— against her ivory skin.
When lobelia sleeps, her blood slowly drips
From her grimy black nails;
My petals shiver— abated by blood droplets.
The world darkens, the moon turns blood red
My petals fall apart
Swaying with the melody of a sad death.
The writer is a class 11 student in Bir Shreshtha Noor Mohammad Public College