by Ananya Sarkar
After the night’s sojourn,
The dew-soaked ground awaits...
The sun passes by
Cloud-veiled and mellowed.
Of all things, the nooks and crevices come into notice
Breathing gloom and neglect.
When the wind blows this way
The leaves swish in restlessness.
On a bare branch of a tree sits the skylark
Its voice deflated, hollow.
And in a far-off, long-forgotten land
Yesterday’s footprints remain
To be trodden over by tomorrows
And be transformed into the new and whole ––
Just as the dew-soaked ground awaits
For the brightening of the morrow...
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