Who is my destination
I am wandering
Here and there
All the time
Every single moment
I am a wandering soul
That has no destination
That has no way
Of living an ideal life
Of living a good life
Of living a healthy life
My destination is hiding
Somewhere else
It is far away
From me and from everyone else
It belongs to me and me only
But I wish it could come
Any time, alas, it didn't
And I am left here
All alone in this darkness
Without any specific destination
And without any particular purpose
The destination has gone
The purpose has gone
About the Creator
Kiran Yasmin
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The Harvest
Koyi wobbled to her shabby wood and straw kaz, holding her machete and an old burlap bag with some yams. Someone had laid another basket in front of the patched up door—rose apples today. They were a bright reddish pink, looking waxy and crisp, just the way she liked them. The culprit knew her very well. Those would be crunchy, juicy and sweet—she could tell—but she gathered all the will she could muster and pushed the basket aside to enter her home. She had already said no repeatedly and would not be taking bribes.
By Lily Séjor3 days ago in Fiction
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