She reminds me of
a plain canvas
Devoid of brightness

Untouched by any shade
Slightly fading over a decade

Shadows from the nightfall
Escorted  her in silent walls

She was supposed to be
alive
Worked hard to survive

Hair strands concealed in
winter
Flakes overflowing with
whimpers

Replaced by migrants
Desperate to be vibrant

So fearful of growing old
Standing on a cramped road

What's the use of saying
Cold
When there is no one
To hold

She was an unknown art
Named with no heart

Thousands of unspoken
words apart
Want to paint herself with
Voilet and all

Maybe this was the start
For another journey of depart
Depart, from the days of halt
.......
-Ayesha-