With the Hiding of the Sun

Tender, shallow, light footsteps in my backyard

Who treads like that in the hours of darkness?

I know who but I lower my guard,

For I know now I’ve her to ward off my lonliness.

I follow the sound of rustling leaves from garden,

To land out alone and bathe in the full moonlight;

I look out for her like the banished Duke in the Woods of Arden

Accompanied by the silver objects shinning bright.

It is then that I hear the familiar noise of the swing

And I know I am near

There she is, swinging and smiling at my being

“My pale, white little girl, your Daddy is here.”

I run to the swing to pull her in my arms,

To wrap her and deck her with all the love the world holds,

But just like everyday, she disappears with her charm

And once again the reality of this world and the other, unfolds.

I am left alone outside, in the dead silence

Interrupted occasionally by the wind and black night bird

But I know she’d come back tomorrow again, amid all hindrance

With the hiding of the sun, noise of the swing and leafy whispers unheard .

-Angira Bhattacharya

This poem deals with the eerie and the other wordly, inspired by the supernatural intervention. It also draws a sharp line between this world and the world of the demised.

I hope you all would like it.

Published by angirabhattacharya

sugar, spice and everythin' nice </3

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