Requiem For A Winter Night
Requiem For A Winter Night stories
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blindbudget
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Requiem For A Winter Night

by Nikhita Dodla

I dream of the falling colors,

But I am trapped by the monochrome white outside my window.

Is a house really a home?

I work away,

My fingers flying across the keyboard,

Eyes adamantly refusing to look at my surroundings.

For if I do, I will realize that a house may not be a home.

I reluctantly finish,

And pack up all too quickly.

Is it loyalty if you have nowhere else to go?

If so, let my house be my home.

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