Though the roads we walk on
aren’t smooth highways with lights on.
No straight paths with beautiful scenery,
or fixed tolls with abundant greenery.
They are narrow lanes,
much rough and less plain.
Twisting and winding,
with unclear grindings.
Amidst the blaring noise of horns
dies the continuous tales of confidence torn.
Frequently missing the bull’s eye,
but not giving up until we fly.
Trying still hard to revive,
Yet, I think somehow we all will survive.
About the guest author:
A.S. is Akanksha Singh’s pen name. She is a person who happens to be quite fond of reading and is also a deeply passionate writer from India.
Her highly entertaining blog is called: My Bubble.