The departing sun,
like an epiphany,
fades away leaving its traces,
on this silent evening when even the porch swing doesn't creak.

With a sigh that leaves the lips,
are the questions of
what should I do
and who should I be.

Realisations are too loud,
Silences are burdensome,
on this sombre evening when even the porch swing doesn't creak.

© पारोमिता