Forgotten Sweaters

By Vidhi Kotak

And just like that

we get played by time again.

It comes too late

and sails too fast;

towards an empty, cold evening;

leaving a verandah

drenched in echoes of

stories and laughter of people

who came and left

like the winter sun.

I danced in their warmth

and basked in their love.

And somewhere in between

I forgot to pause.

Now the sudden calm,

the chill

runs through my spine

as I try to gather this void

in forgotten sweaters

and half-drunk bottles

and a barren dinner table.

Time will play again

and I'll play along

but

I'll keep wondering,

how homes that host

heal the vacated corners of their hearts.

By Vidhi Kotak