Pink

I put my hand out
For some fresh air
I got a shard
A flying glass shard
From somewhere
From nowhere
And now it has left a wound
A sweet pink wound
On my arm.
I notice its pinkness
Stand out in the brown of my skin
When I eat
When I write
When I greet
When I reach
And when I lie down.
I notice it everytime
I caress it often
I remind it often
Not to die.
I do not want this one
To heal!
:)

- Chandni Girija
05-10-16