Ink and Tree

I don't know how much ink I have left,
or how many trees you'll spare
from your quiet garden
to let our story go on—
but more, it shall.
For words are stubborn things,
they bleed through pages
long after hands grow tired.
And I, foolish keeper of letters,
still write to feel you suffer,
to know what pain once meant
when it was ours to share.
If every leaf that falls
is a memory you've forgotten,
then let my ink become rain—
so you might remember
how it felt to grow with me.

Nubisha Rabya Topote, a class 10 student at Viqarunnisa Noon School and College, is a
budding poet who finds inspiration in every opportunity to write. Find more of her work
@nubishawrites.