I Want to Write | Simran Ahira

Sipping at the golden sky

As it leaks into the ocean

I feel the liquid rush through my veins

I want to write

But I don’t feel my hands

And I’m mid-stride

Uphill

Through a cold that shakes me to the core

And my heart trembles

On a distant balcony

A man smokes a cigarette

We stare at each other

The distance and fierce light allow us to do so

And besides, our minds are elsewhere