An Afternoon Left Unwritten.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY THE AUTHOR

DATE:29/04/2025

It was the kind of day
that didn’t demand
poetry.

Just the scent
of boiled rice
and old soap.

A chair facing the balcony.
Two pigeons playing
without metaphor.

Even the shadows
took their time
to stretch.

I didn’t write a word—
and somehow,
that felt
like healing.

RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH
GUWAHATI, ASSAM, INDIA


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