By: Debleena Majumdar

He stood alone,
At the street corner
Selling his wares,
Masks of black and grey.
They came to buy,
Their own masks of pain.
Masks that hid what,
They could not say.

Locked behind
Glasspanes of power,
He barked orders
To close the big deal.
The rain thundered outside,
The car, but he had no time
To open the windows. There
Was no license to feel.

She stirred the spoon
In the of cup of memories
And empty words. Her tea
Cold, the milk stale.
Outside the coffee shop,
The rain drizzled, but she
Couldn’t hear. Her heart
Now hollow and pale.

She needed no mask,
This moment was all hers.
She jumped, dreams danced,
Arms outstretched, eyes
Closed, she embraced
Happiness, each tiny drop.
Just a small puddle
Of joy, no place for lies.

They all saw her from
the street, the car, the café.
A moment frozen in time,
Till the rains stopped.
Her laughter drenched them,
Washing over their islands of pain.
And just for a second, they were
Still, their own masks dropped.