by Jiji Lubis
There’s a flower that blooms every Sunday,
as dripping dews greet the morning ray,
and birds are chirping so jolly and gay,
marking the day’s serenity, happily stray.
On Monday the petals furl and dream away,
calming the fray, nestled deep in the hay.
It sows its seeds with hope each Tuesday,
withholding decay, counting wishes the very next day.
And on Thursday its buds begin to sway,
butterflies blissfully dance and play.
Friday shows a fuller array,
as blooming scents fill the pathway.
On Sabbath it prepares for its heyday,
to greet the world back on Sunday.
Oh, my dear, this Sunday’s perpetual bloom
makes the coffee taste better
than on any other day.
Like your smile, soft as tender skies,
it makes my heart let go of all its dismay,
hand in hand, we cling to fleeting moments,
as if we will never ever say goodbye,
someday.
Jiji Lubis is a seasoned economic journalist from Jakarta, Indonesia. Despite writing and editing news articles daily, her heart yearns for poetry. She crafts poems to understand her own emotions and surroundings and as a form of therapy to cope with prolonged mental health challenges. She can be found on her poetry-dedicated Instagram account @ink.trospective and X’s account @jijilubis.
