Poetry
When she smiled the clock struck three.
Her watch, it ticked beneath the
Ruffles of her sleeve.
They say she wears her heart on it too often
But she knows her heart only wears itself thin.
When she cried the clock struck two.
She watched a vision that cluttered her mind.
They say she sees too far into the future.
But she knows her eyes only look within.
When she spoke the clock struck one.
Her voice, it trembled and her nerves did show
They say she always speaks too soon
But she didn't even know where to begin.
When she touched the clock was dead.
As if her touch was a weapon of destruction.
They say her desire burns too bright
But she didn't even know if it was ever lit.
They saw her as they wanted to see.
Red. Gold. In all pretty colours.
But she knew she was more than a shade.
More than what they could ever discover.
Her joy, her sorrow was only a snapshot
Not an eternity, but a moment
And in that moment she twirled around
While time waited, she danced.
Protiti Rasnaha Kamal is a recent graduate of Mount Holyoke College, Massachusetts, USA.
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