On a certain July, she found a new home,
Unused to the idea of openness,
An open terrace called her towards itself.
She was nine back then,
And the terrace was bright of sun,
For a long long time.

The terrace overlooked the horizon,
The clouds would merge and submerge,
Forming unadulterated child’s dream,
An imagination growing in itself.

She is seventeen now
She came to the terrace,
And closed herself to the sky-
It helped her, the tears of her first breakup;
She took out a cigarette and smiled her first,
The clouds were of smoke,
And the terrace took away her sorrow

She is twenty five now,
Cigarette butts have cornered their way,
Her father had arranged her marriage,
She didn't know him -
She didn't want to.
That day, amusingly, she didn't cry.
The tears wouldn't come.

Assemblage of marriage went through her home.
Her home wasn't her anymore;
A new family awaited her existence.
She couldn't go to the terrace that day,
And someone locked it inside out,
That night, the terrace flooded with rain,
For a long long time.

Nobody busted the terrace anymore,
The old man had arthritis,
And his wife had passed away.
Clouds still merged and birds still flocked,
It was closed for years.
A taller building got made, it obstructed the horizon.
Now its horizon overlooked windows of nothingness.

Algal invasion and cracked corners,
Weren't taken care of,
Wasteland of wasted memories;
The terrace was of no use now-
A girl who used to run, a teen who used to weep,
A woman, left it all behind.

The old man died, and the house was sold,
The tall building wouldn't let the sun come,
And the terrace turned dark,
For a long long time.

Maybe a girl would run again,
The lock was getting rusty;
Maybe the shade would light up open,
Maybe the life would take a toll,
And the rain and sun would come again,
Maybe her sorrow will  make its way?