• Dikshita Singha



My head in the clouds,

I gobble up the broken stars

That fall off their places.

I’d heard those who leave

Make the night sky brighter for you

So I float in invisible wind strings

To get closer to my heart.

Luftmensch as I turn-

I look for crumbs of past

In a bucketful of present

And wade in the ocean of memories

Before the magic water dies.

I realize homes are rare

And that losing one is quite often

So I carry my home on my back

And forget about the forests on my way!

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