"Call me "Sororis ....sister" the girl had said. Prasha's eyes had gleamed as her 6 year old mind raced imagining calling this cheerful, headstrong 18 year old her sororis. Now Prasha had a name to call her ... a name no other called. She lived next doors to Prasha and Prasha was there all evenings laughing, admiring, taking in everything the girl did. It was raining that day and Prasha was waiting for her Sororis to return. She wanted to blab about the day. Prasha sat by the window and watched the rain fall hard. Its then she saw a lonely figure resting by the tree. She squinted and her eyes saw what she did not want to see. Her Sororis ...mournful and defeated in the rain. How could be ? How can it be? Prasha asked herself, her tender heart broken in thousand pieces, for there was no one above sadness.
Saturday, 27 August 2011
Sunday, 14 August 2011
Walks of innocence
walking in the sunset
without a care
Being sassy saucy innocent
not ever wondering
what the sunrise would bring
Laughing with the breeze
wanting to be inspired
searching for a face in the cloud
A walk with my friends
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