Laasya Anand, Varanasi
Warm, grainy sands that crackle
With every step.
Look into the horizon, pale and brilliant,
The Sun dips gingerly into the Ocean
And extinguishes.
How just 10 minutes can bring back
A lifetime of crackling sands and golden suns.
Five, frolicking in the balcony,
Scattering toys and books,
Not having a care in the world.
Look West, you'll see it over the trees.
Seven, playing with my sister,
Catching her as she falls repeatedly
And pressing my face into her cool, soft one.
Look West, you'll see it over the sea.
Thirteen, suitcases packed,
Heart tumbling around in my chest
As I bid farewell and roll up the window,
The flight ticket clutched tightly.
Look West, you'll see it over the hills.
Sixteen, nothing but books and deadlines outside
And uncontrollable music and art inside,
Trying to strike a balance.
Look West, you'll see it over the buildings.
When I open my eyes, purple and black
Are all I see.
The breeze cools the sand,
And the Ocean waves fret under the Moon's glow.
When I close them again, I see instead
A possibility, a hope
That I can be more than I was
And am.
And when I finally left the seaside,
That eternity I had spent there
Beckoned a limitless future.
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