When all seemed well, I stepped out. The sunrise a bleach streak of exalted non-yellow. ‘Twas not a normal Sunday. I, gauche femme, frostbitten, fingerless mitten. When the mind is loquacious. Then pauses to drench. Quiet jives. Time is a slipstream. Rendered lucid in the giddy light. Karma’s overgrown hair blowing into spring. A familial scattering. And here I land – pop! – in a gasp of winter sun. Homeland. In motion. But. Waiting for a bus. Clashing colours. Empty stomach. Sleep-deprived. And always, always just a little bit late.
© N Nazir 2023
Written for Shay’s Word Garden where Shay brings us inspiration with William Wordsworth (words used: yellow, lucid, overgrown).
Written also for Sammi Scribbles Weekend Writing Prompt: loquacious, 88 words.