when the sun knocks on our windows
kissing our bodies
twirled in bedsheets
dancing to the tunes of morning joy
making merry
peeling last night’s leftovers
one lipstick stain at a time
tiny grains of organ chime
questioning what we know
about nights that become days
and days that time travel
to recoil the past.
giving us glimpses of last night
when the morning
seemed like a distant light
at the end of a tunnel
that did all it could
to delay
the morning after.
(Artwork by Shreya Dalmia)
