By: Anushka Somvanshi
The sultry air engulfs the vicinity, aridity smeared the lanes, panting for breath, scorching winds run like wildfire, daubing the shadows under its shade. The summer dust whirled above, and down came drops from heaven, flooding the thoroughfares, with the smell of earth, so ripe. The night's scent kissed my contours, buffeting winds made my hair, shamelessly cover my face, and as I brush them aside, I taste blood, a grey-haired bruise on my hand, has re-surfaced. Rains have made the streets laugh, to the rhythm of ecstasy, As I linger around, the vicinity offers a visual treat, pretty soft sky, colorful bikes, acoustic guitar taking the backstage. My hearts race halts, at my haven, an ice cream stall, I firmly grip my lilac cone. It looks like a purple butterfly, resting on a brownish bark, light and sweet. The downpour has made it cold, like an uninvited winter sinking in, tracing the city's spine. I feel the ice cream melt blithely, from between my fingers, kissing my skin with endearment, offering ethereal solace. I don't mind having ice cream, on a cold night, but I wish nobody sleeps with a cold heart, on any night.
(Image from here.)
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