MINT IS ME
A bunch of me, crisped by tropical air, whiffed out of water and moisture by the sneaky sun rays, is hugged by another dewy cool morning!
I sit in this cool place called balcony that stands with windows to breathe in this lush green world scented with the dewy smell of sea. If one can consider my spread as appealing to eyes, stirring up an itsy tickle in some nimble crease, only then I lie here as adornment instead of being a mere herb waiting to be consumed till the utter exhaustion.
When I was paid for, I was chosen from amongst the lot of them raw edibles packed with much promise of nutritious juice and meatier than me beyond comparison. Until that moment, the feeling of being wanted, of being important, of being cherished, of the delusion of accomplishment was unheard of, especially because vegetables don't talk about feelings, and unknown to me.
The excitement around how will I be used and abused to be finally consumed in the end was building up. This nervous attack had already made me vulnerable to the breezy whip as its lashings were sucking out the moisty misty blanket that was protecting me.
This girl thankfully didn't untie my bunch and placed the lot of us in that aforementioned balcony. Since then I stayed there where my form was altered with open air exposure till wear and rear moulded me into this current thin, wafery existence.
She crushes me a little into crumbles, on most of the days, to savour the flavour I have managed to hold onto, sometimes through tea and other times through coffee.
I get diminished in this gradual ritual of relishing. Sadness would have coloured this depleting growth with gloom but the whisperings of purposefulness has painted this idleness with myriad colours.
