The Verandah Reflections

By Ishanavi Sharma

In the worn wooden chair, 

I sit and ponder, 

life’s mysteries,

like whispers in the wind.

The serenity of night,

a symphony of shadows

far stretched like meadows.

Memories of laughter,

tears and forgotten dreams.

Echoes of yesterday, 

whispers of tomorrow’s schemes.

That chair,

the sole witness to my inner strife;

at that moment, 

seemed the only friend,

that I made in this life. 

As the rays of the sun grow, 

so does the boat of my dreams row.

but then I ask myself 

the meaning of this fleeting pace.

Is life merely existence,

Or does it mean living with intent? 

A journey of discovery 

or moments to invent?

On that quiet night, 

I searched for the answers. 

Each time coming back to the square one. 

Questions to myself, answers none.

Amidst the silence 

my heart begins to speak 

words unspoken, echoes weak.

Tales of loss, love and fears 

all the looming shadows hear. 

Those tangled threads, 

weaving a tapestry 

of moments lived and unsaid. 

By Ishanavi Sharma