She was a desert;
A land,
Where only thorns blossomed,
Only sand blew. 
Dryness was the heart of the place.
Not just throats, 
Soul was unquenched too!

Little did they know;

If you cut her open, 
There is a river inside. 
Enough to satiate;
Every vein, 
Every petal,
Every thorn!

She just knew how to survive the desert.
Show your support

Clapping shows how much you appreciated Himanshi Karira’s story.