You were;
An unorthodox tree of life
birthed dimly before the blizzards borne by winter
fully flourished by the first blush of spring,
the rings on your rutted stump encircling the core of heritage
You were;
A maze of the universe’s deepest ambiguities
contained within the blues of your windows,
with piercing inner onyxes that mirrored the bleakest
shells of humanity raining from perdition overturned
You were;
A perfectly marred canvas of the ages
an adroit architect who’d carefully crafted,
an intrinsic labyrinth of peregrinations on your palms
which hold a century’s worth of the wars of our past
You were;
A voluminous library yearning to divulge the world’s secrets
yet inaccessibly barred by the barriers bred by my tongue,
failed by memory and hardened by circumstance
now a forgotten dialect left bereft and unsung
But in spirit
You are;
A fierce warrior hound braving the fleeting seasons,
ceaselessly straddling the fragile line between
impermanence and
Eternity.
*”Ahma” is Hokkien (Chinese dialect) for “grandmother”.
Ashley hails from a small sunny island proudly known as the Little Red Dot and holds an uncanny penchant for all-things pink. One day, she hopes to dominate the world in a princess dress and sparkly tiara – because who ever forbade warriors from dressing in style too?