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The Blue Hour by Ritika Gandhir

Art by Alaka Ravi

Trees are not swinging today.

Leaves are fast asleep

Like infants cocooning in a pair of soft arms

To keep them from weeping

Some bright coloured charms

Which ring-like cathedral bells

Only softer,

Like water flows in a quiet afternoon

A fluttering tied red balloon.

The clock is going to strike seven.

Clouds as if were cotton balls

In shades of white orange blue and grey

Bundles of water stroll like

Old men who say

“Oh, what a lovely day”.

After a life of perils

Finally, a moment to be gay.

Below the clouds is so much green

If I sat on a cloud

ground could not be seen.

In some peaceful alienation

I stroll like a lonely moonbeam.

Wildflowers are proud today

And yet hide between grass blades.

The wind kisses against

My neck, some inherent pain

Slowly fades away.

Branches brush against me

Like people at a railway station.

Leaves of grass stick to my feet

In a reckless fashion.

I lift my head - this moment

Is a stable whirlpool.

I widen my arms and wind

Embraces my torso

I shut my eyes in a

Kind unrest.

The clock strikes seven.

Sun is bidding goodbye

I hope to meet him tomorrow.

The leaves dance

With no coherence, no break.

The sun is fast asleep,

And all the trees are wide awake.

About the poet:

Ritika is a Literature graduate and she's really bad at crossing roads.

Her favourite authors are many, but a few to name would be Iris Murdoch, Mihail Sebastian, Sylvia Plath, Emil Cioran, William Seabrook. She likes to scourge cinema and literally devours films like anything. The charm of her life is literature. It is all she believes and practices. You can find her on IG @ritika.gandhir_

About the artist:

Alaka Ravi is an independent artist exploring new media through landscapes and portraits. You can find her on Instagram @epi.graphic


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