Monobina Nath

The curls on the sky 

Split into lotus and 

Pistachio tint

Blooms on

My palette 

That has no paint-

To dip, 

To revive

My ageing leaves,

Driving in dreams

To and fro-

An imaginary swing.

I’m holding my paintbrush-

Firmly, intimately 

To fill, to erase-

My thirsty canvas

To get moist 

By the autumn twilight.

​​Monobina Nath is a poetess, who writes about maidenhood, women’s rights, psychology, mythology and history. She has a keen interest about different cultures and their cuisines.