Color of Clouds (Microfiction)

The wing of the plain slicing through the clouds. The captain had declared few moments ago we’re going to land in twenty minutes; twenty minutes…I murmured to self and ran into a thought; twenty years I’ve been out of my birthland, my motherland for writing a book on Krishna calling him God of Sex not Wisdom. I look again outside; the clouds seems to be colored different; they doesn’t belong to any country, but, I felt at that moment they’re colored differently–is it what clouds of own country seems…

Three Lines Tales, Week 59

Photo by Brian Gaid via Unsplash

2 Comments Add yours

  1. I know this feeling..” clouds of my own country”…. nicely expressed… 🙂


    1. Sangbad says:

      I have neither left my country nor taken a flight, so this appreciation from you is highly appreciated…thank you Ma’am…


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