Even a gentle touch triggers instant jolt
And my swelling bases empty forthright
The closing leaflets shield against the foe
A shrewd defence within a silent show.
Folks may call me timid, or call me shy
For I fold instantly when fingers draw nigh
Many would say that I fear the world
A logic why tender leaves in silence curled.
It’s not my weakness what one sees usually
But a wisdom breathing deep and quietly
Mind it, not each heart that bends in grace
Is without its courage or its rightful place.
The wind may shake me, rains may fall
The blazing sun may put to test us all
Yet as morning comes to wake the world anew
I rise with open leaves to greet the dew.
No thorn ever protects my fragile frame
No towering trunk proclaims any fame
My guard is neither sturdy bark nor blade
But a quiet prudence, so naturally made.
In Hindi, this plant is referred to as छुईमुई (Chhui-mui; Memosa pudica).
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