days rush by
faded polaroid sky
drops down all dry
only to turn glint white
cover up the mistakes
of our piled-up history
how many seasons
shall dust our hearts
will we try
to see spring tender eyes
furled beneath bright
laden branches
sparse yet strong
rooted and tall
promise dreamt right
deep summer comes true
as a kite’s flight
past telephone lines of despair
and autumn’s siren call
heal white winter sigh
treat me to sight
sweet white winter sigh
take me to light
– Suchitra Lata (All rights reserved)