Last night, I ran my

Hands over the pages of my

Old, musty atlas, over ridges

And oceans, and trenches of

Deep blue and indigo, and I

Found ranges of mountains that

Curved inward and outward like

Your mouth when you said my

Name, and I found narrow

Crevices and contours on

The maps, like the laughter

Lines on your face, and the

Crinkles near your eyes, and the

Lakes and ponds and hills and

Valleys all swayed to the rhythm of

Your breath, almost like you

Came alive, and stood in front of

Me, through the tattered,

Thin sheets of parchment.

 

 

 

 

11412388_701908406581569_300083040184797255_nNoor Dhingra is a 17-year-old high school student from New Delhi, India. She enjoys writing, reading, poetry, art, travelling, and ideas in general.

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