Watchful written by Anshika Sharma at



written by: Anshika Sharma


I sometimes come up
At three in the morning,
When night still sleeps
On the couch and below,
When it snores silence
In elongated moments,
I stand, and
See the furniture, sitting
In a future-less space
Where the air is heavy
Transforming into walls.

What becomes of places when we leave them?
Do they stop the coming seconds?
Do they wait
For whispers,
For sweeping commotions?
I often think,
But just then a green gecko
Creeps the silence
Running about the still-life.

Latest posts by Anshika Sharma (see all)