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A Post-Covid Sangam poem by Sreelatha Nelluli

Art by Fred Tomaselli

A Post-Covid Sangam poem

From where you come,

I imagine thick, white blankets moving ever so slowly

Hiding everything from sight.

In a dream, I follow you,

And you fade into the white density

Like a white curly lock.

Tap water is

stabbing cold in the morning.

And the Sun, lacklustre,

Stands tormented by nightmares.

From where I come,

Winter is almost non-existent.

Early in the morning

The grass and the Earth quietly lap up

The few dew-drops trees shed.

A flimsy, thread-bare mist hover over the sky

Trying miserably to hide the weeping trees.

And then, the Sun smiles as if everything is alright.

Love, would we ever see each other again?

About the poet:

Sreelatha Nelluli lives in Bangalore. She writes poems and stories in English and Malayalam. Most of them are still hatching in her Google drive. A few of her translated works are published in Malayalam.

1 Comment

Steele Nickle
Steele Nickle
Jun 03

A flimsy, thread-bare mist hover over the sky geometry dash subzero

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