gone

at least wet gravel crunches, but here sneakers tap listlessly on water pooled on sidewalk the romance is gone. the water is a layer so thin you cannot splash it, so thin there is no point in dancing around it.

there is no nature to block out the sound of logic, the wind has died and refused to redden these cheeks with excitement, some adversity to fight in pretend fervor just for a moment.

the world is large, and it seeps, it seeps into this story that hardly begins this child worries in the silence wonders where the neighbors have gone, locked up in their houses wonders and wonders and walks on. there is no grass, save for the ones that peek through cracks, save for the ones that beckon a trespasser, save for the ones that grow where the water drains gone is the romance. and even under the shade of trees, she cannot find the rhythm the leaves here do not whisper to each other there is no song to this story there is not a tired wisp of smoke that climbs out of the houses. and she wonders if all that’s left here are ghosts.

| Kanwal Ahmad