Late night walks had become quite a routine for some time now, I kind a started getting fascinated with the idea of walking by the lonely roads dimly lit by the yellow halogens. The dark grey areas are also present in them, quite a lot of them though, connecting the lighted paths and one among them caught my attention.
I had been walking for over half an hour and I knew I had quite a distance to cover back, but what lay ahead of me just didn’t allow me to go back. There in the midst of the darkness I saw a lush green park having two giant trees in between. The moon shined just enough to sparkle the dew droplets settled on the benches. In middle of all this, I felt the cold breeze passing by my hair, sending shivers down my spine making me only tuck my hands deeper into my hood. I gathered myself and moved towards the extremely cold bench and managed to sit, wondering why am I here in the first place.
I have a strange way of measuring cold, I would try to puff out air from my mouth and depending on the white smoke I would decide how cold it is. While I was trying that in vain, I found a similar smoke appearing from behind. Then all of sudden I heard her voice.
Her: Who are you? What are you doing in my garden?
Me: I didn’t know it was a private area. I am sorry; I will leave after I complete my verse.
Her: Okay. ~Sceptically accepting my defence
A deep silence reverberated between us, while she stood viewing the moon with hope, hope for her prince to arrive. She was dressed in simple clothes but her eyes were the ones which shun out brightly, making me feel the hope she was searching in the moon for.
Her: So are you a poet?
Me: Kind of. ~With a sense of uneasiness
Her: What happened?
Me: I know I can make things rhyme a verse or two. But I could never finish a poem that told a story in turn. That was one of the reason for my long night walks and today for the first time I thought I found a perfect place.
Her: Perfect place?
Me: Yes. A perfect place which could inspire me to weal a story around, a place where I could be true to myself.
Her: So this place does all that?
Me: Not yet, may be in sometime, maybe not.
Her: I don’t understand.
Me: Just wait for a while, you will.
I started penning my poem, I had found my first words a while ago but the end I came to know only now.
“Hustling past the shadows of dusk,
The green laid barren while the dew lay still;
Filling them with life, filling them with purpose,
Moonlight makes its entry, slow but steady,
Only to find a thing missing, only to realize a voice to break
Their long cast spell, their long tired sleep,
The voice that spread sweetness, the eyes that spoke of hope,
The very eyes that awakened my poetic spirit,
The spirit strong enough to wait, to surrender
Before you, just to catch a glimpse of the twilight twice,
One in the sky and other in you”
Her: Have I to wait for the sunrise for thou to leave, Shakespeare?
Me: No mademoiselle, not at all.
Her: Then how will you witness the twilight, twice?
Me: How far is the sun from here?
Her: I get you. Now I will probably leave, don’t stay here for long.
After a silent nod from my side, she spoke again.
Her: The poem, it was quite something. Thank you.
Me: Not every day, not every time I feel so inspired.
Her: Does the rhyme ever stop?
Me: Not today I believe.
Her: I shall leave now.
Me: At least let me know your name?
Me: Ryan, I am Ryan.
She left swiftly with a pleasant smile on her face, the one I would remember for decades ahead.
Photo Courtesy: taringa.net