Writer
The wooden boat glided silently across the serene lake, passing through the misty air.
Floating plants drifted gently to the side making way for the boat to pass.
Old and mighty mountains stood still in the background reflecting golden morning light, glistening on the peaks.
He hummed softly in the boat so as not to disturb the quietness in the air.
The piano played
a sweet soulful tune.
With the keys,
her feet tip-toed on the floor.
Bending and rising like a ballerina.
She flowed like a river was inside of her,
Gliding and sliding with the notes
The rhythm played
invitingly in the air.
Soon with the mystical melody,
she faded.
When it rains I bake
A sponge cake.
To relish with
A hot cup of tea.
I heard a melodious tune
A passage of notes on the piano
Soft, smooth, and grave
It seemed like a familiar piece of music
Like the one that plays
With the chords of your heart
Like the one that arouses
Many hidden emotions
Which then come flowing out
Like a pouring rain.
‘Twas the wretched dream again.
Reminding me of a glorious day,
A time that my memory refuses to forget.
‘Twas a balmy summery day.
I wandered the streets of Paris again.
Where the trees bloomed decorously
Casting shadows on empty lanes.
There were bustling shops selling
Tiny trinkets and many souvenirs.
Parisian buildings were everywhere.
With the prettiest-looking artistic balconies
I stopped a moment to absorb the view
Then, ended up clicking just a photo of you
– A fallen abandoned leaf by my feet.
Kidding,
Not a soul to be seen
On the deserted streets,
Lost are all hopes and dreams.
All of a sudden from nowhere,
A mockingjay sings a melody
Of Katniss Everdeen.
Light seeped in
Through a cracked window
Illuminating the room.
Paint brushes and stained cloth
Lay scattered on the
Greying dusty wooden floor.
An artist worked tirelessly
Somewhere in a corner.
A sad melody hummed in the air
In the hopeful season of spring
The spirit of gaiety is locked away.
Drowsy eyes
Read the same lines
Over and over.
Yesterday, he called me in my dreams
Strolling in the dark green meadows
I turned around to look at him
Then walked away.
Next thing I know,
He is by my side
Giggling and questioning me with his eyes.
So I stop and ask, “Who are you?”
To which he replied “Your daemon.”
Nuraine Sadaf 