Sunday

Sunday

do not hush
or shush me
mind,
calm yourself.

let me read
each poem
with precision
and line
out loud: slow
and stealthily,
in fragments
and in flow.

blind to rhythms
and meters
at my own pace,
in my own time,
forgetting
who I am, where
I breathe.

skipping over
rice and millets,
and the prayers to God,
for, it is Sunday.

Stay with
Prerna ЁЯЩВ

Prerna Gupta

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