Writer
The grass is turning pale, the leaves begin to change,
a gradient of green, yellow, and red.
The wind grows chilly, stealing leaves of trees away
Like flowers tossed in the air,
The red and yellow leaves dance above my hair
moving with me, walking beside me,
Swirling, flying, and landing softly by my feet.
Hello October, hello autumn,
it’s a bittersweet joy to meet you again.
I don’t remember the last time I finished a book at this pace, in two days flat. Yellow Face is a fictional story of two friends, Athena and June. Athena Liu, a celebrated and successful published author, and June Hayward, a struggling writer whose career never quite takes off. Both of them love to write, but luck favors one over the other. Until it doesn’t.
Continue reading “Yellow Face by R.F. Kuang”Mountains.
Grandest, mightiest, majestic beauties.
How silly it is to assume, we made it to the top when we stand upon you,
an insignificant tiny speck of dust.
I bow at you in awe filled with humility.
A slick wax body,
sometimes thin, sometimes tall,
sometimes scented, round and small,
red, black or white,
in a glass or on a stand,
A candle –
in a thousand forms and shapes,
yet the flame is always the same.
Its purpose: to burn,
a spark brings it to life,
spilling warmth and light,
casting shadows that dance,
Perfuming the air,
Bringing joy to faces,
when placed on a cake.
A candle can also wound,
sear the hand that holds,
or burn down a house to ruins.
Feel sad while —
watching its body surrender,
Drop by drop,
Burning away,
To the silence of the wax.
Are we not the same?
Like candles, living flames.
Choosing how to burn
Entirely up to us..
Will we melt away in pain,
Or shine –
and illuminate the world before we fade?
A curtain of rain,
hangs beyond the window frame,
falling in fine dotted lines,
painting the air a misty white,
turning the concrete slick and black,
the trees afresh, newly rinsed,
leaves shining lacquered green,
with birds hiding deep within.
*I wrote this letter a few months ago after returning from a long vacation. It is now finding its way to my blog, lest it be forgotten.*
*This is a letter I wrote last year, now finding its way to my blog, lest it be forgotten.*
Nuraine Sadaf 