​In the dark of the night,

There was a dim source of light.

When up and down she Scrolled,
Messages from the past rolled.
The fingers ached from the scrolling,
Her heart did too, there was no stopping.

With every scroll, came a promise,
With every scroll, popped up a heart,
Red yellow blue or green
Her big brown eyes now had a sheen.

The aching fingers scrolled all through the night
Till the sun showed up that morning, bright.

-Yashaswini Balasubramanyam