I look at the leaves
Serrated edges, little flowers 
And I wonder 
About its identity 
The shrub growing under the amalthas tree
You would know
You always knew 
As we walked in the street
Outside the house 
You could name every flower
And every tree
Every creeper
Even the sickness 
That gripped some of the leaves 

You looked at these 
Concerned, everything else forgotten
The fact that your own body 
Was racked with disease 
That ever-present pall softened 
By the enormity of your being
Your own pain erased 
And at that time, in that moment 
I too forgot
The wheelchair that you were in
That you were ill; that we were grief stricken 
I dived right in, feeling, seeing
You weaving magic around everyday things 
Flowers and trees grew chimerical wings

The swaying kachnar 
The beskirted Ashokas
Bobbing profusions 
Of jasmine and phlox 
Fragrant bunches
Of nargis and freesias
You pointed them out with happy ease
And worried when any of these 
Were less than their perfect selves
And I too smiled and looked
In wonder
At how joyfully you revelled in it all 
Holding infinity in your lit up face
Offering up so much love and grace

And for those moments 
I too forgot 
The pain and the grief 
It was you and me 
Sadness free
While you took me on ethereal trips
Where nature in all her fullness
Unfurled - beautiful, calming, brave
We were carried away on a gentle wave
The pitted leaves 
Still vital and green
Were the only things we needed to save