As monsoon clouds hang over me like untold words
On the grass still wet and fresh in the rain just faded
I set my writing desk
A stalk of white paper, stand full of pens
and an ensemble of birds
of colorful feathers.
Delightful they stand, eager for work;
To carry little strings of harmless words
To bring back similar ones
a slight smile of my face.
Silent white bird looks up.
A questioning look;
A puzzled look;
a pleading look;
She waits for my unwritten message
To give them wings.
How I long to have it conveyed
She knows.
And she knows she may not fly.
All unspoken words don't get written
All written words don't get read
Read messages may not be received
Received guarantees not reciprocations.
She knows.
She has seen me set my table there
Evening after evening.
She has seen me fill
scroll after scroll
To send them with the colorful birds
Messages that fade
As soon as they touch the ground
03.07.2017
No comments:
Post a Comment