Reflective surfaces show her your faces,
Bright, sunny days, your frolicking shadows,
She inhabits with you, these massive spaces,
But she’s so rarely here, will she at least share your tomorrows?
You carve jack o’ lanterns and build a snowy Frosty,
You bake sugar cookies, giggling, dripping melted ice-cream,
Your faces lit in laughter, smeared with cotton candy,
Will she ever be in these memories, her heart wants to scream.
For lately she’s just an observer, the forgettable photographer,
Documenting a pleasant, Kodak chrome recollection,
A consummate and obsessive cataloger,
Seldom captured on film, completely oblivious to her own reflection.
Indulging her compulsions, on some restless quest,
Filling white, empty spaces with burdensome thoughts,
While precious unlived moments vanish unpossessed,
An unbearable disembodiment that may pass, though she doubts it.
© Pragya Thakur
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