Waterdrops Leaves shimmer like green candle flames on wooden branches Waterdrops, the size of two rupee coins thrum against glass panes – the notes of a lullaby. Dusk rolls a velvet carpet for the moon to coat stars with milk at the mountain tip, listen to the melody of water. Sleep, a dragonfly alights, knowing it is warm in the folds of silence. The grey sky lowers her feet on the uneven marble floor bracing to land in a puddle. The moon has turned out dry. Her white face untouched by waterdrops.
Preeth Ganapathy lives in Bengaluru, India. Her work has appeared or
is forthcoming in a number of avenues such as Origami Poems Project,
The Buddhist Poetry Review, Better Than Starbucks and Young Ravens
Literary Review. She is also the winner of Wilda Morris’s July 2020
Poetry Challenge.
Amethyst Review 