Mother Could've Cured My Insomnia

By Anisha Gupta

The tanned city sides,

Echoed with music.

From the flutes of sand fairies,

They played music;

Underneath the seedbeds

Sprouting flutes,

To curl the city of insomnia.

So, every night

The citizens fell asleep

Into their cocoons.

Music so mellifluous,

That even nerves took birth

On dead walls.

Ears carved out

With morning dew.

Rustics danced to the folklore,

Not some pied pipers, just wildflowers.

Whirring words muffled in my drool,

As I speak while asleep.

Teacher touched an ice-cold water bottle

To my face.

What are you whispering and why are you sleeping?

Uprooting my face from the classroom table,

I tell her that I am unable to sleep at night.

Does your mother not sing you lullabies?

Head sprung low,

I walk off the show.

As the day ends and I’m in my bed.

Rustics danced to the folklore,

Not some pied pipers, just wildflowers…

Mother shut the book,

As the rhyme words died.

I asked her for the last time.

What is the tune?

She said she doesn’t know.

Maybe that is because,

My grandma never let her know too

By Anisha Gupta