That girl sitting
On the wooden bench,
Has become
An uninspired writer,
Who failed to stay in love.
She was reading a book
Under the shade
Of a burning sun,
Lifted some pages,
As if her skin never hurt.
To stay on the same page for long
Makes it hard to reach
The next chapter
She was longing for.
But once, she forgot some good lines
Turned the pages back,

" Ahhh, yes. This line is good. . ."

Mouth curved like
Her breakfast cereal bowl earlier.

(Turned the pages ahead again. . .)

The story unfolds too fast
she never had time to think
Of the burning sun,
And some old good lines. .

*That girl has become
An uninspired writer
But a persistent reader
Of her life.