Out of reach


As the soft sounds remind of you of a city waking up from its stupor, a yellow sun disperses what remains of the early morning chill. Despite the early morning rush, stray sun rays find their way in the bus, lighting up everything in their path, bouncing off the bright blue clothes of the little ones, yellow light turning into blue. At times like these, you wish you could stretch out your fingers and touch the light.

But it remains out of reach, taunting in its formlessness; already just a memory confined to the pages of a sketchbook.

(Based on a scene from bus 27C, 25 August 2015, Chennai. Written in response to the Daily Prompt – Out of Reach)


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