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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 9, Number 3, September 2015

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Yesha Shah
Surat, Gujarat, India


Summer’s Song

With the April sun scorching away, the entire locality seems to have settled into a mid-afternoon siesta. There is the dull hum of my air conditioner and the sweet snoring of my sleeping son around me. I stare as usual into my laptop screen. Time and again my daughter approaches me for little help with her task sheet.

A song nearly a decade old bursts through this quietude. I slide open the window pane and see a young couple in a slowly moving car. En route for a movie date to a multiplex located in the outskirts of my city, we used to play the same song. Later, under the shade of an abundantly blossoming sunny-yellow karan tree I would recite my verses to him, the trumpet shaped flowers dripping on us. Seldom now does he have the time or the inclination to read my musings.

all my dreams
in a nutshell . . .
the rainbow's end

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