These sheets—beige, tangled
Clinging to my ankles
Like September rain
And smelling of you
Now sitting under the frangipani branch—
Unquiet and awake
Watching once more
The shadows in their monsoon trance.
Just like last Thursday
When you became a moment—
Fleeting, mirage-like
On my skin—
Creating an illusion of thirst
An allusion to dream.
Miles away the Surla* flows
In another darkness,
Into another slumber
Spilling the secrets
Of roots, pebbles and soil—
A sad remnant of yesterday’s prayers.
Now I rise
With your image
Pressed between my eyelids
like a petal—withered and white
Learning to inhale
From the yellowed diary
Scribbled during times
When hope sprouted wings.
*Surla: A river in South Goa.
~
Relephant Read:
Petrichor: The Scent of Rain on Dry Earth.
~
Author: Sridevi Datta
Editor: Toby Israel
Photo: Martin Wright/Flickr
~
Read 1 Comment and Reply
Read 1 comment and reply