I purloined letters stowed between your luscious books in the shipshape library of my sixteenth spring
As I leaf through those lush drizzly lanes, your Lisianthus letters feather my lips, hushing me into my somnolent years
A lingering redolence of incense tiptoes close behind me during my brusque truancy to the quaint idyll
Sodden, percussive nudges ablute me as I am struck by shyness when your dawny gaze meld with the sky
brimming with millions of sunrises…
Smita Ray is the mother of two lovely kids who hails from northeastern India. Her perpetual displeasure arising from the hypocrisy in the society underneath the semblance of religion, culture as well as the conditioning for compliance urged her to put down the impressions in her mind. In her spare time, she likes to have some culinary adventures along with her kids trying new recipes or crafting.