Saturday, May 25, 2013


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.


Basque-Land said...

Ooooh. I like this. I can really "feel" the relaxation of just sitting there letting your mind sift and shift. And the "hand". Ahhhh, I sometimes just live for that hand to come!

Nazia Mallick said...

Thanks, Rozanna!

I pray that that hand touches you soon!
Great to see you here after so many months. Hope you are fine.

তমসো দীপ said...

Fabulous poem Nazia!

Nazia Mallick said...

Thank You, Tamoso!
Good to see you after long :)

তমসো দীপ said...

You're always welcome Nazia!


Last night you wrote your sonnets in  Braille: the commas, parenthesis, ellipses engraved perfectly on my skin- and  I  ...