A breath of wind ruffled your hair and the blue gasp sounded ever so wilder

Pronto you spun on your heel and the graceful whirl of my dainty hands

flicked in your salty stares jousting with mine

You chuckled, your feet treaded the soaked sand when cachinnating waves sluiced them out

tucked away behind the stealthy sun your eyes gilded my corsage

It was Sloe gin poised over my glass and yet I was an abysm

Like an unsown land reeking of a smidge of yesteryear.

Photo courtesy: asouthernvintageheart.tumblr.com

Published by Smita Ray

Smita Ray is a mother of two lovely kids and hails from the northeastern town of India Gorakhpur. Her perpetual displeasure arising from the hypocrisy in the society underneath the semblance of religion, culture as well as the conditioning for compliance urged her to put down the impressions in her mind. In her spare time, she likes to have some culinary adventures with her kids.

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