Another Day


Across the unmapped skies,

And labyrinth of fallen leaves;

I wonder over the possibilities 

Of another year or just a namesake?


Fancy new year resolutions?

Oh! I’m kidding;

Cause I would rather engage in rhetoric attribution

Of pensive bidding.


Is it the numbers on our grade sheets

Or the treasure chest of ideas I couldn’t possibly bear?

The calories in our luncheon treats


Or are we the shape of our dreams and fears?

Under the soft amber of fairy lights,

Like the chronicles of yore and knights,

Aren’t we the snippets of art and stories woven in gleeful delight


More than just a collage of labels and digits?

A sea of reckless abandon,

And a hearth of happy memories

amidst an everyday melancholy in poetic passion;

Or am I dwelling on cynical reveries?


Wrapped in these pronounced shades

Of ephemeral solitude and unwavering fireworks in mind’s alleyway,

Seeking my respite in incorrigible faith that pervades,

I begin again, another day.

Anisha Biswal

An abundance of lazy habits, wretched impulsiveness and animating conversations. Fancy travelling, stories and other smaller things in life.

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