I read this poem a while ago and I really liked it. Although I’ve been wanting to share it ever since I first read it I’ve been saving it for the right moment. And since I don’t have a more specific definition of the right moment than a strong gut feeling, I am sharing it today.
Like this alabaster box whose art
Is frail as a cassia-flower, is my heart,
Carven with delicate dreams and wrought
With many a subtle and exquisite thought.
Therein I treasure the spice and scent
Of rich and passionate memories blent
Like odours of cinnamon, sandal and clove,
Of song and sorrow and life and love.
– Sarojini Naidu