She lived her life in style,
every day a memory,
every occasion a moment of pride

She was a dream to aspire,
a hope of making the dead alive,
A desire to weave
a reason to nurture believe

That’s how she appeared to the world, beauty, perfection, astute, impeccable were the superlatives
she was known for

But people failed to see,
how she achieved
what the world now envied

For her grit to succeed,
the abrasion and the bleed,
the emotional turmoil,
and the times
when she broke down and coil,
all the harsh realities were never seen by those eyes,
as they thought she never had to try,
for she was born to touch the skies

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

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