A Prompt Smile

By Mukesh Choudhry

If I were a story; I'd be a festive dance of joyous glory, a song that life, alive, would cry in the centers of their cities at night. Waiting for moons. As our lotus flowers, they float on muddy waters.

If I were a story; I'd be your broken plates, as abandon rages on for tears of joy shed just too soon. Through the duets sung over our smiles, I would be that poem wrung across their rooms, you never knew.

If I were a story; I'd be none of their bottles. For their letters churned, I would be the ocean cresting along our bustling shores. From dusk till dawn, my crashes would drown out sorrows.

If I were a story; I'd be your shouts and screams. The praise you sing, the fears and joys they bring. I would be our hands thrown up in airs of laughing disappointments, the shoulders laid back on cloud envy.

If I were a story; I'd be the crystal rivers, that their hunger wrought and our thirsts burned. In turning seas, I would be your tiny hands. For arms that sail, stones resting on our floor.

If I were a story; I'd be your death, that blithe forsook. The mirth, parks, chants, flights swallowed. I would be their ghosts' shadowed wings love swings on, the silence beings.

By Mukesh Choudhry