I Folded The Morning

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED NY THE AUTHOR

25/04/2025

I folded the morning
into the back pocket
of yesterday.

The birds forgot to sing today—
or maybe I forgot
how to hear them.

Even my coffee
tasted like memory.
And the sugar
didn’t help.

They say grief
doesn’t knock
after its first visit.
But it has a key now—
and uses it
whenever the sun is too bright.

RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH
GUWAHATI, ASSAM, INDIA


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