Stray thoughts, like the fallen leaves,
roll querulously on mind's screen,
sifting memories from sands of time-
passing through restless fingers,
the maelstrom of dusty dreams.
And through this a hand beckons
from that irrevocable summer-
when my long-parched lips,
were touched by a drop of mist.
© Nazia Mallick
Photo: Courtesy Google.