Wildflowers like her by Nithya Vijay My mother loves her nights, Sitting on the verandah- Of our little house, Staring into nothingness. Calm and forever beautiful, Ruling the silence, I watch her and wonder, What might rule her thoughts? Maybe it's a little girl of 6, Running around her garden, Dreaming of the sky, Laughing aloud. Or maybe it's a teenager, Sitting high up in a Ferris wheel, Wondering about tiny flowers, That meets the sky at night. Perhaps there's a 20-year-