By-Medha Arora


The world was sirens and fireworks and madness

And people and people and people

People that were bursts of red, orange, green and blue fire.


She was flame-retardant, an ashen grey.


She was an illusion of colours when she danced with the rainbows

But a yearning shone through her translucent eyes

Her soul wasn't entwined with the others

It was a lone wolf, howling through the night.


She floated above crowds, around them

Everywhere but in them.

Seeking, drifting, wandering,

Sinking in her quarantine.

She only revelled in her solitude

Sans faces that she passed through,

Sans loneliness that swallowed her.

Her world, was her and her shadow.


When she was dancing to her own rhythm,

Her soul was iridescent and her eyes were magical pearls,

She was an eruption of red and orange and green,

An explosion of glitter illuminating the stars.



This poem has been published in the book 'The Last Flower Of Spring'. Buy the paperback copy on Amazon:

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