I couldn’t hold the sunshine in me,
only the warmth of afternoon
which didn’t shy away
even in the haze of winter,
which engulfed the city
like never before.

Or maybe I let my thoughts
paint the canvas of the city
with colors of white.
I left it to overexpose
and the bright sun
wasn’t brightest anymore
and the print turned into
a giant sheet of white-
void of any borders or textures
void of existence,
which couldn’t hold back time

The loss of time
etches memory intricately
much like a miniature painting
depicting sultans and sufis
and paradise.

Loss of time
is yours too,
when I take off
my plastic electronic watch
and let the sounds of Ghazal
decide when the dusk enters the house,
decide if the time for goodbyes is here yet.


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