Loss

By Simone Kothari

A field of flowers, swaying soulfully with the gale,

Just like those sparkling twinkles on her face that grew prettier with each exhale.

Glee whistled, her heart too,

The vibrant essence of her life, yes, was true!

Warm hands walked down her neck,

Curled up against her back,

Pushing her towards them

Heaven? Found.

The hands that propelled,

Were souls, completing her unfinished self,

The threads that made her a whole.

The irony, however,

Was she never said a word of gratitude,

Or for that matter,

Was never the least bit grateful,

But those souls, didn’t mind,

Their love was purely kind.

It was then,

When the drizzles, became brutal,

A thunderstorm embarked,

The lightning illuminated the tombstone,

Where the names of the souls were marked.

The threads were now unsown,

She stood there, empty and alone.

“Why does one discover the value of someone, only after its loss?

How could I have turned a blind eye to the people I call home, the peace in my chaos?”

By Simone Kothari