Every morning as I walk into the campus,
the pavement under my feet is littered with fallen flowers
from champa trees,
that line the pavement,
their mild but moist fragrance filling my nose.
There is a champa tree
right outside my cabin too,
that sticks out its many tongues at me,
as I look at it longingly.
I walk into the classroom,
and lecture the kids
about the need of being true to oneself.
A girl in the class,
sits with a champa flower tucked behind her ear,
that she or her beau
may have picked from the pavement
or plucked off from one of the many trees.
I stop to smile at her
(wanting to tell her one day
I will be brave enough)
and continue to drown her and her peers in my hollow homily.
~ aviD
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