Child

Yesterday I imagined him as a child,
saw that toothless grin behind his throaty laughter,
that puerile shrug in those broad-edged shoulders,
that vehemently pure sincerity in that direst structure,
his carefree running in his serious, fast traipse,
a scared child in his venturesome decisions,
his warm, rosy face in that rapid eye-blinking,
those ethereal promises in his words,
that tender effort behind those broken promises,
that innocent heartbeat in his innocent heartbeat.

Wild Thing

You cannot fall for a wild thing--
matted hair,
distorted footprints,
sharp gaze,
bruised hands,
irrational decisions,
regrets scratched off,
lucid vision
and unconventional movements,
blaze that can’t be caged.
I am a wild thing.

Agampreet Kalra is a High School Senior from India and an amateur photographer and writer. Her life revolves around writing, reading, staying up late, talking to her dog and drinking coffee. She mostly writes poems, blogs and short stories. She maintains a personal blog page and few of her blog posts have been published in The Rhythms and Bones Lit Mag, The Brown Orient and Hebe Poetry Journal. She is also a Staff Writer for Redefy.