“You raise the mist, ethereal surf In a white corridor, like ice flames” — Eesha Kumar Copy Share Image
“Floating gently at the bottom of the ocean, I With waving weeds, sway, asleep” — Eesha Kumar Copy Share Image
“They wish there were some rough edges So they'd carry the bruises as secret remembrance” — Eesha Kumar Copy Share Image
“A song Like a window of glass on a winter's day That shuts in your warmth And lets the coldness fall, free” — Eesha Kumar Copy Share Image
“You raise the mist, ethereal surf In a white corridor, like ice flames” — Eesha Kumar Copy Share Image
