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.


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