Featured Image by Vijay Sarathy
I’ll send you my sky framed in the pixels of my phone,
and you send me yours, promise me that you will,
so that we can try to find the same details in both the
pictures like it’s a puzzle from kindergarten.
I want to know which cloud is from where you live
and I want to send you one from where I live
with an absurd cloud theory of mine.
I want to study constellations with you likewise.
I have so many confessions to make when it comes
to the sky; like how I never ran out of blue as a child
because I coloured my sky a different colour every single time.
To be honest, I have never been a fan of sunrise;
like sunsets but not sunrise
and still I’ve saved those photographs of the sun
rising in the window of your airplane that you sent
with so much of zeal —like it’s the love of my life as well.
Do you know, birds have the sky mapped in their heads.
It’s a migrating tool.
I pretend to know the sky like the back of my hand but
all I can do is confess to an open sky that the first poem I ever
wrote was titled if I was a bird, and I have not really
moved on from that.
By Manya Mishra
Manya Mishra is a 22 year old freelance writer and artist. She writes poetry and prose and is published in three anthologies. She is an avid reader and a passionate artist too.