Inside a green larder
The lemon plant in my backyard,
absorbing the mystique of
an azure expanse overhead,
flaunting a glossy garb
amidst the fluttery pink bougainvilleas,
weeps silently,
swirls of agony, seeping through
an elegantly crafted green robe,
the intricate whorls of
layered perfection,
each one emerging day by day,
now lie threadbare,
clutching at the stalks,
gasping for life’s breath,
remnants of perfectly shaped ovals,
some drooping, some turning brown,
the agony increasing twice as much,
when marauders draped in
green n' brown cloaks,
their predatory eyes
darting here and there, sneak in,
thanks to the camouflaging makeup,
their bulging bellies
relishing the rows and rows of
luscious green tapestry,
showing off their
striking colors and patterns
against a backdrop of
tender, ravaged foliage,
whose supporting frame,
a slender, life bearing stem,
now stands helpless,
unable to stop the
creeping tide of plunder.
