The sky is empty: Bhawna Lohana [Grand Daughter]
yet the sky is so empty.
I try looking for its traces elsewhere:
in the room of books and stories,
in the late afternoon sunshine that escapes the curtains,
and in the neem tree that’s not here anymore.
It is as if they too, like me, hold the memory,
but just don’t know how to share.
I seek the memory of its voice
it takes me round and round, on its shoulders,
up and down the footpath of the park near home.
It mixes with the sound of rain hitting neem leaves,
and I’m somehow almost back in the library, listening to you.
The sky is so empty,
and I’m missing a world.