ORCHESTRA By Noor Dhingra
Her
name
was
the
only
word
that
Rang in your head, repeating itself until even Eternity gave up and stopped progressing, and Her name sounded like all the times the Rain fell on your fingertips and drenched your Oversized trench-coat, and it was like all the Orchestras in the world had synchronized their Trombones and trumpets, only to produce a few Syllables of symphony, and it sounded like all the Times the snow fell softly on your yard, slowly, Until the green was covered completely in ivory.
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