On the crossroads of time,
The past,
Like the daunting memory of an unwanted obligation,
Binds her feet.

And the present,
Like an unforgiving norm,
Clutches her wrists.

The steps of the future halt in apprehension of what the known and familiar might turn into.

While the nocturnal darkness listens to the pleading whispers of the recluse.

© पारोमिता