by Vanessa Proctor

Darkness begins to extinguish
the remnants of the day.
After the roar and clatter of the train
in the third-class women’s carriage,
all is quiet. I place my worn backpack
on the ancient stone floor,
sit on the carved wooden bed,
spent and grateful for the comfort
after sleeping on the rooftops of Delhi.

Through the latticed windows of the
City Palace, the lake laps its walls,
small boats putter towards the horizon,
Lake Pichola shimmering with sunset.

And now, alone in this strange place,
with no plans for tomorrow, I take in
the stillness, the darkness and the
sandalwood-scented peace.