JAI SANTHOSHI SATHISH KUMAR
Emerald green eyes gazing at the ceiling,
She sat propped up on a withered chair;
Wounds turned into scars, forbidden healing,
Transfixed, she let the wind sway her hair.
The depths of the memories chimed in,
Applauses around were heard no more;
A deep penetrating silence was the new found din,
The roar of the engine turned to be a mere folklore.
Her world was cars and nothing beyond,
A racer she wanted to become – her dream.
With gears and clutches she shared an unbreakable bond,
The price she paid was her leg and an eternal scream.
She sat in the seat, marvelling the steering wheel,
Guns bellowed and she followed, as the others did.
Within a lap she lost control, leading she hit the steel.
The car was in flames, to her life and dream, a goodbye she bid.
Abandoned to drive, Abandoned to dream,
She lay propped up on the withered chair,
Her gaze adrift, she lost her perpetual gleam.
Yet, to ride again, to race again, will she dare?