It is summer, but how wonderful it is to feel the spring in my veins, to see the tiny blue buds blossom again. Even more wonderful is the fact that here I speak, here I break into wispy indigo blossoms of love and there you understand. Every word that filters through my branches and every sigh that escapes the sound of my silence is loud enough to pronounce your absence.
The sun dances on my skin and all of a sudden I am studded with the finest rubies from Mandalay. I train my lush blue windswept tresses into a trapeze, into a scintillating waterfall, into an indigo sailcloth and watch the rain fall on the cobblestones-like a song, like a melody, like a distant forgotten pain. In the hundred dewy mirrors, I see your frame.
A sea rises from the empty space and even though I love like the tallest eucalyptus, I freefall like a flower in the rain. My blue tufts become sapphires dancing in the dewy lane. The magical droplets seep into my skin like curaçao liqueur and the colour rushes to invite spring. The sky lifts its tarred blue and the burnt sienna turns blue, and in my memory, you become infinite, beyond my own ease, and stir a steadfast wordlessness, that brings my soul to its knees, in a prayer. You become a weaver of dreams, a canto of gems, and I become myself- a breathtaking Blue Jacaranda again.
© Jaspreet Mann