An Edition of ‘Ease’
She dove in – a stream of Sunlight –
through the open window.
A dance with the curtains,
a sweep across the room.
Slowly, she lazed over my crumpled
bed sheet, like a drowsy cat,
ruffling the blue and yellow flowers on it.
(The same flowers that
a bee once thought were real
and sucked at for a whole 38 seconds,
until it perceived the betrayal
and left out the window.)
By evening, her carrot-stick rays,
long and thin and soft as butter,
cluttered onto the floor. She left
in a whisper, and then it was just me,
my books, and the sentience
of a day well spent.
By Dhruvi Modi