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Monsoon memories

Through my ancestral house’s jalousie panes,
I witnessed the seductress supreme;
A drenched monsoon siren
with black and blue hues,
who descended in June
and vanished in August.

But now from this high-rise,
All I see is a graying lady.
Mumbling almost every day
in a foreign and pacific tongue.

Monsoon memories

Through my ancestral house’s jalousie panes,
I witnessed the seductress supreme;
A drenched monsoon siren
with black and blue hues,
who descended in June
and vanished in August.

But now from this high-rise,
All I see is a graying lady.
Mumbling almost every day
in a foreign and pacific tongue.

Shahani Sainulabdeen, 26

Bellevue / Kerala, India

 
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