The Lark
Published in

The Lark

Upturned Forever in Gratitude

Free verse

Image by Daniel Reche from Pixabay

My eyes tired of the dull pockmarked sky
Invisible under the diseased grime of my slowly suffocating life
And I shut my eyes

I opened them to golden blue
Someone had taken a marker and erased my slate clean
The calendar showed 5 years passed, where had I been?

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Paroma Sen

Paroma Sen

“Do not go gentle into that good night, but rage, rage, rage against the dying of the light.”