A Restful Rendezvous Pink roses in a rustic glass vase, the mellow touch of a khaki-colored, soft plaid blanket on my skin as I lay on the wicker chair letting the cool air weave through, aligning myself with the soft pillow for rest. What can I say when the silhouette of life is picture-perfect? Is the silhouette of my life picture-perfect? Today it is roses, tomorrow it may be peonies filling the vase, opening in a spread of colors, as they rest on the sides of the vase, much like the plush blanket falling on the wicker grooves, its waves streaming through, as it is crunched and crinkled on the chair. Every time I sway on the rocking chair nearing the flowers, I whimsy life’s colors, a mélange in perfection. Pink juxtaposed with green, I breathe a sigh, looking through, casting my eyes on the carved green vase. Reflections of the flowers interrupted by folds of the blanket— what a replete for this chilly day, bringing forth a moment of rest. A charming whiff, a sweet dream, restful intoxicating moments, as I doze peacefully in the chair. I release cool breaths into the threads of the blanket. In turn, a moment of epiphany ascends through my spirit, how perfect! It cleanses the crawling anxiety, like the stems bathing in the vase. There is a fresh ooze of life as my thoughts flow through. Processing the many impressions my mind bears, weaving through my love, my family, the tumultuous journey, a moment of reflection in restful slumber. Dreaming of the flower, the blanket, and the vase I listen to the untold stories of my mind while basking in the chair. How tender, how cuddly I feel when imperfections are cured with the soft wavy weaves of the blanket. Tomorrow is another day, but today this blanket has served, has supported my body and its trembling soul throughout times of dusky despair remembering a past in its ethereal arms offering perfect harmony to me in this season, for every reason of my wanting, resting heart rocked by the rhythms of the wicker chair. They bring solace to me, this blanket, these flowers dipping in the green vase. On a cold, wintry day in November, the soft weaves of a blanket offer calm and rest to my soul, running through moments of unease as I lay on the wicker chair. What a perfect revelation birthing from the rendezvous with the flowers in the vase.
Aruna Gurumurthy is an author and observer of human nature. Since her childhood in Mumbai, India, she has embarked on a journey of creative exploration. Her poems have appeared in literary journals, regional anthologies and numerous poetry collections since 2015. Aruna is part of the thriving Southern literary community. She lives with her loving family, including her husband and young daughter, in Chapel Hill, North Carolina.