Sonal Singh On Sonal's Table

  Halt thy ascent on the granite sky Stem thy hand shooing the sun Let the crimson of my wounds Bleed more on the far horizon Let it seep on into the sunset For my heart keens.   In the darkness of the eventide Leave me be, let me be …

In the bustling ado of my life, chaos reigns The ambling morn picks up pace, it trots by, Often meshing into a rushed afternoon. That too brings no respite, no succor; it spills Forth into the twilight of the dusky evening And then night descends, veiling my efforts. Try as …

The night lifts its veil and like a new bride The morning peeks from the horizon Holding promises of hope. Shy and timid, it decks itself up in hues of Red, gold and orange ochre, splashed With the merest of yellow. Image – Federico Respini via unsplash