The Pilot

By Anushua Chakrabarti

She was all but six and she sat calm,

While the skies turned rough.

They were gasping for breath all along;

As the plane rode its darkest trough.

One of them couldn't resist but ask.

"You aren't scared, little one?"

She was surprised to hear those words.

As they unfolded through the mask.

"My father is the pilot Sir.

He's taking me home.

If only I could finish the colors;

The ones not on my sunset"

I cannot fly a plane.

Nor can sail the seas.

But I know one thing;

I'll take you home with me.

By Anushua Chakrabarti