I sit there watching
The grains of age-old earth
Displaced into mid-air
By bare little feet
Running skipping and hopping

A brief reprieve
from selling their wares
for a game of catch
As business is slow
this time of day

The tourists have retreated
to their sheltered coves
where over beers
they would post
the day’s photos
receiving a hundred likes
from across the globe

There he sits
His arms as thin
as the rusty wheels
of his chair
His eyes dart
ever so intently
tracking the footprints
his friends leave
on the intransigent land

Then she walks
by his side
tracing the scar on his cheek
down which beads of sweat file
She cajoles him to join

And off they go
Her tiny hands pushing
Their laughter piercing
the silence that is creeping
through the ancient cracks
of the temples that once again
recede into their solitude

Till tomorrow dawns.

– Lakshmi Ganapathi