by Aisha Mirza
Piercing morning light
floods across blossom white walls.
Falling into cushions of mustard,
and blankets of sea green.
Breathe, I’m reminded, I’m alive.
Greeted by a daily symphony of birdsong.
Her name is “Gracie” -?her presence, perfect.
I watch dust caught in sunrays levitate,
eventually settling on the window sill.
Breathe, I’m alive.
I hear chatter of early walkers,
startled by the barking of “Ben” next door.
Shrill laughter of the lady at no 18,
And bouts of arguments at no 29,
spilt over from the night before.
Breathe, I’m alive.
The clock ticks to my beating heart.
Leaves shadow dance in the evening light,
dappling hues across the kitchen floor.
The aroma of biryani sent by my mother,
transports me to her.
Breathe, I’m alive.
Candle flickers in the dim light of lamps,
The low hum of the refrigerator has a calm about it.
I hear the clatter of raindrops pelting the fire pit,
and whatever devils may lurk in the darkness outside.
Breathe, I’m alive
The faint rumble of the milk van,
drifts away on the lull of lavender.
Sleep overtakes wakefulness,
while I’m held in bed’s warm embrace…
Breathe.
We are alive.
Address details:
Grass bank below Holy Trinity Church – next to traffic lights
