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millions of strange lives &
special people & dreary thursdays, &
yet you manage to be golden, as
bright as the sunflower adorning
your face. like spring & delicate petals
you’re hope travelling through the
tendrils of the wind & all the drizzling
in the world couldn’t mask your
smile, the one that says “i don’t
need to hide”; they all see
your reflection in the raindrops trickling down
dark glass windows, dripdripping subtle
extravagance. everyone believes in something –
on dark days, that happens to be you.
— Ashmita Das, HONY

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