THE JOY OF READING

The arid air blew once again, Across the dry, parched earth. As if whispering to it, in vain, “Be strong, there should be a firth”. Now...

She threw a letter up in the air, Scribbled with hope, drafted with flair; Only to see it fall back on the grass, For countless times,...

A wish I have, a wish so small, Of air but clean, of orchids more, Of hatred less, of laughter galore, A world we lived, but not anymore....