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.

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Relephant Read:

Petrichor: The Scent of Rain on Dry Earth.

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Author: Sridevi Datta

Editor: Toby Israel

Photo: Martin Wright/Flickr

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