ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY THE AUTHOR
DATE: 11/04/25
The window doesn’t dream—
but it remembers
how light crawls across a floor
with slow affection.
It doesn’t blink,
but watches the seasons
press their palms against the glass—
sometimes with rain,
sometimes with silence.
Today,
the window framed a bird
that hesitated mid-flight,
as if unsure
whether to return
or keep going.
RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH
GUWAHATI, ASSAM, INDIA
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