The sun was going down
The sky was a blue except for a patch- a mutiny of red of orange,
Just above the setting sun.

Rushing to the terrace,
I settled in my spot,
The white swing, my book, and music on my phone.
Aah! Utopia it was.

The backdrop was perfect.
The sky like the dim reading lights
Not too bright, yet enough.
The sun could be just seen in between the mountains.

Before the romance with the words,
I danced around, feeling happiness coursing through my veins.
Then I lost myself within the pages, within the story of Mariam and Laila,
Unconcerned about everything around me.

Oh but this poem is not about a thousand splendid suns
It is about the moment which followed.
A darkness descended, so sudden, it took my breath away.
It was like someone had flicked the switch off.

I looked around, gaping at what had just happened
The sky wasn't black yet, it was blue,
Yet even dimmer.
I sat their awestruck for a few minutes.

And now I don't know why I am writing this.
But their was a sudden flutter of these lines in my mind,
A sudden urge to record these lines, a itch in my fingers to write this.
And now it just seems like a tree which will never bear fruit.