At dusk by Abha Das Sarma

The pink fills the street

Suddenly

On the right, in a row

All the way

Ending at home,

The letters are out

Old and new

Together of forty years

The same pink

Almost,

The crow sits on the fence

Mirroring silhouette of my mother

Pasted behind the window,

Waiting

For the sound of the door.

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An engineer and management consultant by profession, Abha Das Sarma is passionate about writing. She has a blog of over 200 poems (www.dassarmafamily.blogspot.com). Her poems have appeared in Muddy River Poetry Review, Spillwords, Verse-Virtual, The Ekphrastic Review and elsewhere. Having spent her growing up years in small towns of northern India, currently she lives in Bengaluru.