All things love

She spent years yearning,

Yearning for love at all times.

Through city streets and rain-filled nights,

From the hands that never held her right.

She mistook the elude for her destiny,

aching for absence.

Until one day she found it

Found it in her own reflection.

Love was never a place to arrive,

a thing to be held.

But the way she carried herself

soft, tender and kind like no one else ever did.

Love was never too late, it was never missing.

Love had always been hers to claim.

Aanchal Vachhani

Aanchal is from Ahmedabad, India and attends the Seventh Day Adventist Higher Secondary School. She loves participating in debate and enjoys literature philosophy. When Aanchal isn’t writing, she loves to read the work of other authors.

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Letter to a Writer

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The Great Soul Recession