A river runs through me
one thin sheet of glass,
and if I turn rock
at my edges and bends
it cuts away at corners...
gnashing at me
wounding
bleeding me
and
flings me away
into times lost.
A river runs through me
and I am just about learning to wear it
in a perfect fit.
Welcome to Writers Chowk!
The place where writers converge, and how! Contributors to this blog include Roopinder Singh, Aradhika Sharma, Arvind Krishna, Seshadri Sreenivasan, Manraj Grewal, Vivek Atray and Balpreet... Others who are keen to contribute can mail us at writerschowk@gmail.com
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