A Flower He Left Behind 🌸

Last night, at midnight,

I stood quietly by my window,

when my eyes fell upon a Kamini tree

the very one my grandfather planted

twenty years ago.

He is no longer here,

but somehow,

a little part of him still is.

It blooms in silence,

season after season,

as if it remembers the hands

that once placed it in the soil.

And I wonder

maybe this is how people stay behind…

not in photographs,

not in words,

but in little things they once touched,

in the flowers they once planted,

in the fragrance that suddenly

brings them back to us.

He left this world years ago,

yet that tree stayed

growing beside us,

blooming with us,

quietly carrying his memory.

Maybe some souls never really leave.

They simply become a flower,

a fragrance,

a shade beneath a tree.

We may not remain,

but we will keep blooming

as buds, as flowers,

in the garden of love.

And perhaps,

every time that tree blooms,

my grandfather is reminding m

Some goodbyes are not endings.

Some people stay behind

as the most beautiful memories. 🌸

Rahe na rahe hum , mehka karege

Ban ke kali , banke jubaan, baag-e-wafa mein ❤️