|
| |
After Clouds Depart
She thinned to vapour, blue as longing's edge,
while we searched skywards, calling her lost name.
Wind replied in whispers no one could catch–
just hollow notes strung on a frayed thread.
Now dusk repeats her gesture: palms upturned,
spilling light where her shadow once poured.
We drink the rain, still tasting her farewell.
Copyright ©
Hira Fatima
|
|