What if you stand before a mirror
after day’s shower , your bare statistics
reflect an unknown cityline
dawn waking up on stars done vista
a monument still intimate to walked away time
a misnomer for wisdom for learning what was once
it is there you see weak shadows of tree branches
make almost shapes of a name
you’re called to sounds name makes
the car-honks of love
how memory is a transparent orbit around you
like ring road seen from mesosphere
you feel the gravity of era alive inside you
like the wind from crosswalk clearing inside your windpipe
you visualize an image salvaged from all that’s ended
like poster of movie once a jubilee hit
reach out to the park grass and lie calm
like pebble and you beside her
invisible like DNAs to naked eyes
you dress up , an attempt to keep sadness under wraps
growing tall and tall in your absolute privateness

Purbasha Roy is a writer from Jharkhand India. Her work has appeared in few literary journals.