Afrin Haque Aranya

And were I born To prying eyes, be I a girl of any design.

Mira delighted herself with dadu's poetry as she sat by the window of their hut. She glanced beyond the gold dusted harvest, reaching her hand out to the cotton candy clouds. “What are you doing?” Poorna giggled as she scrutinised her dearest friend's dazed face.

I write this letter to you because something suddenly reminded me of you today.