PINK-ORANGE EVENING

On a pink-orange evening I sit by the window, Sipping a cuppa tea. I think of things that never were But I believed they ought to be.

I think of brown eyes and words that play, Of sounds, I miss and rose-coloured days, Of driven miles and unplanned ways.

And then I know that things are as they are to be. It was the mind, it was the me That expected all differently.

I sit by a window, sipping tea, Reveling at the absurdity that life offers so magnificently, And enjoy the pink-orange evening, That, unbeknownst, was always meant to be.

Dhaka, 15 July 2024.