one amongst many, withdrawn.
It never occurred to me in that pale autumn-light,
in the rustle of the dry leaves being blown away,
in that anchor-less faltering...
that, again, I would seek my own earth,
would dream of unburdening,
would hope for solace...
in that common presence...
which, rendered that
mossy cement seat,
the mauve jacaranda rain,
the thronging crowd,
the shroud of dusk,
the festive air and
each day passing into another,
so uncommon!
Author: Jayeeta Sinha Roy
