Resting on our old
dining chairs,
we watched and
awaited India’s win,
dinner waiting for
long to be served,
lost all its steam
over the plates.
suddenly, gate
crashed chilling winds,
wind chimes singing
the wind’s strength
they added pseudo as
a prefix to summer
and then robbed us of
electricity.
isolating the chairs,
we marched outside,
into the balcony,
into the wind’s empire.
the gatecrashers
robbed us again,
this time of our
stress, of our forehead’s creases.
the sky clicked our
photo, then came a
late capture sound,
we revised
light travels faster
than sound!
yeah! Wise people in
the empire!
they gate crashed our
silence,
into our gloomy air,
to cherish us,
to be a part of their
celebration.
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