My Darling Darjeeling

(The harvest of your varieties)

By Gerlie M. Uy

I was wrong.

Accept my apology,

my Camellia Senensis,

for treating you like

you are nothing special.

When we were in India,

you are Darjeeling,

my no ordinary darling.

The first time I had you there,

it was after the spring rains,

and you offered me your gentleness,

lightness and mildness.

I had that first flush of blush on you in Mid-March.

And then you declared that I can have you in April,

but I chose to wait until June.

My second flush of blush with you in June

rewarded me with your amber appearance,

full-bodied embrace and muscatel-tasting kisses.

Then came the monsoons,

the lowest time of your life,

but you chose not to deprive me of you.

You would pay me back comes autumn, you promised.

My autumnal flush of blush for you

gifted me with your fuller darker body

and delicate touches,

all laced with kisses made of less spicy tones.

My Camellia Senensis,

I must admit,

you surprise me

wherever

you are,

whenever

I am with you.

By Gerlie M. Uy

*web photo; photo credit reverts to owner

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