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Where's The Girl?

By Vidhutma Singhania

Where's the hope

I knew as a girl?

It's a box from my past,

a weight heavy on my palms.

The aged bunch of parchment,

& grey lead that's almost transparent.

None of the colors shadow

the rage on the girl's nose.

She screamed at the top of her lungs

from across the street.

Hiding behind her shriek,

is what she yearns. 

Where's the nerve

I knew as a girl?

It's a box from my past

a weight heavy on my palms.

Maquettes of my destination,

a holy grail to my conviction.

Broken pieces of crayons

every slight shade on the spectrum.

She walks past the extreme,

always ebbs away from the road.

Her chest homes echoes of a roar,

the love that oozes off her brink. 

Where's the girl

when I've become a woman?

Is she just a box from my past?

I think she resides in the crease of my palms.

I've to let go of the weight 

that I talk of with regret.

I can still scream at the top of my lungs,

let my brink shatter with echoes of love.

There's the hope & nerve

I knew as a girl.

Between the wandering lights,

she's more than just a scared child.

By Vidhutma Singhania

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shekhar Gaikwad
shekhar Gaikwad
Jan 16
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