Golden Flower

What if I turned into a golden flower just for fun and grew on the high branches of that tree laughing and swaying in the wind and dancing on the new leaves, Mom? Will you know me?

If you call out: "My child, where are you?" I will hide my smile secretly but make no sound.

I want to quietly open the petals and watch you work.

When after you bathed, with wet hair spread on your shoulders, and walked through the shadow of the golden flower tree to the small courtyard where you prayed, you would smell the fragrance of the flower, but not know that this fragrance came from me. Come.

When you sit in front of the window after lunch and read Ramayana, and the tree’s shadow falls on your hair and knees, I will cast my little shadow on you. The page is exactly where you are reading it.

But would you guess that this is the little shadow of your child?

When you went to the cowshed with the lighted lamp in the evening and I suddenly fell to the earth again and became your baby again, please tell me a story.

"Where have you been, you bad boy?"

"I won't tell you, Mom." That's what you and I had to say at that time.