FRAGRANCE OF THE FUTURE FLOWER

  

 

 

I sit in the stillness of a morning yet born,
cradling dreams like the hush before dawn.
These aren’t just hopes—they’re echoes in time,
Of chapters I've written in life’s secret rhyme.

HOLDING MY FUTURE FLOWER IN HAND.

 

My parents still laugh, love lights up their face,
And my brother now sees the whole world in place.

My body moves freely, in health’s gentle grace,
Each breath a soft hymn, each heartbeat a pace.
HOLDING MY FUTURE FLOWER IN HAND.

 

 

The home loan is gone—freedom rings on each wall,
Clean corners and sunshine in every hall.
Books line the shelves, like friends I once missed,
their words have kissed me, their wisdom insists.

I stand

HOLDING MY FUTURE FLOWER IN HAND.

 

I've blogged every moment with truth as my pen,
Turned passion to pages again and again.
My name in bold ink in platforms worldwide,
As a writer of wonders, with nothing to hide.

I stand

HOLDING MY FUTURE FLOWER IN HAND.

 

 

Sarees in silks, in stories they twirl,
Each drape a desire, each pleat a pearl.
My marriage a dance, a partnership kind,
Where laughter and love eternally bind.

I stand

HOLDING MY FUTURE FLOWER IN HAND.

 

 

My brother walks forward, in vision and vow,
Prepares for his wedding, it's happening now.
The family extends with warmth and with grace,
Every reunion a soft, sacred place.

I stand

HOLDING MY FUTURE FLOWER IN HAND.

 

 

 

A Ph.D. gleams like a crown on my brow,
The India Book holds my triumphs somehow.
And through every line, each story I've spun,
The world knows my truth—my journey began.

I stand

HOLDING MY FUTURE FLOWER IN HAND.

 

 

This isn’t a dream—it’s a memory, see?
Of the life I’ve embraced, the best yet to be.
Not just the “maybe,” but vivid and true—
Like the fragrance of the future flower, which I hold dear to me.