Joyously Hers

By Maahi Verma

Faded away like dust from the ground;

A new perspective is yet to be found;

Listening to the new sound;

Alas, this world is round.

A twisted knife,

May or may not ruin your life.

Her heart in a strife,

Mind like Aife.

It’s a game,

To win she must know her aim.

This moment will never be the same,

So she must live and make her name.

That Sunday eve,

Made her want to leave;

For she became the cause of her own peeve,

But she’s glad a new day brought new moments to weave.

What splits her hand into fingers,

Is a feeling as she refers.

What makes us thinkers,

Is the thought that lingers.

Her feelings are endless,

But the words seem less,

To be able to express,

Her mind in a mess.

Then came this thought,

A feeling her mind could never before wrought,

In her own imagination she sought,

And that made her hit her shot.

Whatever may cause the noise;

Either way, she was supposed to make a choice,

Which satisifies her own poise,

And made her the sufferers’ voice.

By Maahi Verma