The Yellow Apple

She's the girl with the wild hair,
The tresses that aren't afraid to be alone,
The pen that looks around and sees stories,
And gives them an ending of her own.

She dances along the marshmallowy clouds,
With dreams in one eye and the other immersed in hope,
Looking for the tent of shooting stars,
To sprinkle across her gingery abode.

You've noticed her;
Staring out the black window,
Gazing at the orange sky,
Her tea dipped in rainbow colours.

You've laughed with her;
While she was chasing the fireflies,
While she was tickling the snow globe,
While she was painting her journals.

You've laughed at her;
At her milky glasses,
At her crooked laugh,
At her tangled toes.

But you can't see what she can,
Through her cloak of insanity.
For she's the glitter in the dust;
She, is The Yellow Apple. 

- Sayantani Sarkar.