Teesta Review: A
Journal of Poetry, Volume 7, Number 2. November 2024. ISSN: 2581-7094
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Olivia J Dunggat
Evening rays trace lines on the floor
As they filter through the cracks in these walls.
I smell moist wood in the air—
It pulls a memory, a lone shard of the past
Clinging to the waning light.
Birdsong fades as the light goes down,
Making way for the incessant chirps of crickets—
Welcoming the darkness.
I wonder where you are now—
If time has grown lines across your face,
If you’re happy in some distant corner of the world,
Or if you’ve slipped into the abyss,
Drifting now only through my thoughts.
As long as these walls remain,
And rays of light find their way in,
I’ll think of you in the quiet of twilight,
Missing you—
Constant as this light that falls to dust.
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