She was a follower
Wherever the breeze took her
She followed unquestionably.

At first, the breeze was friendly
It let her meet
All good things and shiny
It was the most magical period.

There were certain whispers
Which warned, she didn't listen
Until one day,
The breeze turned into a storm.

Robbed her all of the flowery things
But, with chaos and desolation
She followed, unquestionably
To inherit what was left.

For it was, a thunderous resurrection.


© Anandarupa Neogi