Sunday 21 December 2014

The scent of Peshawar...

A few dreams, out of place, elaborated
Unruly lengths of hair, a burqa, amidst...




There was family, there were friends, and
There was life, splashed in pastels...




Another everyday it was, sprawled in
The blackboard, the chalk dust, my childhood...




That had been redone was, my very own...

A lullaby to sleep to...







My dreams lingered, crumbs of them, soaked in


The scent of a drenched bullet.....