Where the sun was by Harsh Ramchandani (Lucent Dreaming Issue 8)

When we used to visit
in the summer
you were old as oak

Your cabin scented with
Cedar and smoked latakia
stubbornly lit by oil lamps

We chased fireflies with you
rode on horseback
and settled under the stars

Till we grew up
forgetting the summers
that you never did

You wrote us letters
even when we didn’t
write back
and I would give anything
to take back the words
“We’re too busy grandad”

City life, you told us
was far too lonely
for a man of your age
and in time we stopped
asking you to come

In your letters
you used to send us pictures
of the sunshine and the sky

This year the coroner called
and my heart bled cold tears
when I learned what happened

In the remains of your cabin
we found your packed bags
where the sun was still shining

Harsh Ramchandani is a Hong Kong based writer. Currently working in the IT industry, he writes as a creative outlet and as a way to raise funds for the various causes he supports. You can find some of his published work on his website.
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