Written by Burhan The old granny again hugged the muddy stairs on the edge of Jehlum, reckoning the ruins of her rusting womb. Wood ashes on head and eye lashes pouring ash made a Dervish to come along a child juggling her own tears. Decades gone, I still watch them and my eyes portray me there - with pen in hand and papers sinking in... © Burhan 2021
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