Colours

She mixes the colors
With the air of a maestro
I bring out my stencils
To show her a design
She rejects it quite promptly
And says "I'll show you how it's done"!

Colour after colour
Gets dumped one on upon another
She scoops up the sides
Pours down the middle
Creating a little pile
With all sorts of hues
Of Green, White and Purple,
Some Reds and some Blues too.

Soon I can't tell
The colors apart
As they all blend together
To make the color Black.
Is it a mountain? A volcano? A cake?
Is that even important? I begin to wonder..


For she creates with exuberance
With playfulness and delight
With no preconceived notions
No designs and no plans.

But perhaps I am wrong.

May be she does know
Exactly what she's making
But also seems to know
That not everything needs a name

So I watch in silence
Soaking up the sight
And before I can ask her,
Anything at all..
She gets up
And dusts herself off!

With a smile on her face,
And pride in her voice
She asks me a simple question
"Amma!Isn't it beautiful?"

"