Two Poems

Dedicated to the long line of Tabebuia Rosea trees along the Eastern Express Highway in Mumbai, that bloom in the Indian Spring.


Spring: Chaitra 

Don’t sit in my head and smile at me

through faux cherry blossoms

(Yes, I know they’re called Tabebuia Rosea; must you be so unromantic?)

Tell me

That the letter I wrote as a sixteen something

still sits tearing at each of the countless folds

in the coin compartment

of your purse

among loose change.

Spent as it is; and yet, of new denomination.



Summer: Vaishakh

I watched the faux cherry blossoms fall.

I watched them drop

Tired and hopeless,

their once blushing pink now a pale white.

Like the skin of an anemic old woman

Living alone

In her own memories

Bereft of the comfort of her imagination.

The tender new leaves a disappointing reminder

Of life ahead.


Saee Koranne-Khandekar

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