Of all gifts, one could ask, I never would have written beauty in my birthday wishlist – a mistake I wouldn’t make again Fall colors as far as eyes could see, curving wet roads, red leaves floating on the chilly air kissing my bare face. such bliss; so much blessed this year witnessing to postcard beauty – something my dreams were made of; Best Birthday memory.
Last weekend, I went on a little day trip to Algonquin Park to witness the fall colors. I had only seen some pictures before this online and I was not prepared for the breathtaking beauty that I found myself surrounded with. So blessed to be spending this year in a place that is so beautiful.
“We asked for a place people would not note at all”
“You asked for a place to hide the spaceship”
“Not a tourist place like this”
“You only need it the night, why waste it in the day”
“How does attracting people help?”
“Are you kidding? Don’t you know the earning from tourists”
Today at Toads , the prompt was to take inspiration from one of the songs in the playlist for a poem. I chose Hymn for the weekend and the only reason is that the video for this song was shot in my home country and I am a little homesick this week before the birthday.
Wonder what distances mean,
for hearts that beat as one;
every smiles and tears
shared over video calls;
days split in time zones,
never missing a moment
to celebrate each special day –
birthdays, anniversaries, festivals
every single one kept on hold
waiting for me to return home;
families – strength to survive
and the reason I go back
to memories carefully wrapped
in prayers I never felt in the past –
Family is a hymn, the angels
guiding my passage to God.
“You are being crazy.” “Maybe. And you are starting to irritate me” “How dare you, I have been posing here and there and everywhere ..” “Because you like your pictures” “My face deserves your camera. Why should I scale this bridge for a back shot?” “Because that’s the prompt, Love”
She had come so far that there was no turning back now, she had convinced herself all the way. He stood on top of the stairs, waiting for her with a smile that was too troubling for her heart. She took a deep breath and turned away before she had a change of heart; She would not become his secret lover even if she loved him more than the world.
******** Written for Three Line Tales #190 This September, I’m taking my blog to the next level with Blogchatter’s #MyFriendAlexa campaign.
The child was creating a ruckus as was his favorite thing to do in the afternoon. It was only when she heard footsteps on the roof, she decided to check for monkeys but found the empty kitchen. Everything within his reach was in its place but the hanging pots were another story.
He had managed to jump on the roof, now giggling and running free. “Young man, If you refuse to come down right now, you are not getting any dinner” Mary yelled as she looked up at the window. “Your powers should have slept for another ten years”, she muttered as she called his guardian to come handle this complication.
The cardinal rule, she repeated to herself, was never to forget his kindness.Even if it came attached to an arrogance that scared her. Some relations, for the sake of a name, are built on rules, which are expected to be adhered to at all times. In his case, she knew better to test those boundaries. So years passed, but she dared not to ask if he still remembered the stories they made together. Somewhere far away, he opens the old emails; taking strength from her words and presence; even if it was something he never deserved.
Delightful in what way,
this rush of cars and feet,
the tap, the honk, the race,
madness now has a busy face;
why not gather to hug and talk
stop a while,watch sunsets,smile;
From my window, I see only roads,
endless stream of traffic to & fro;
I plot stories for some of them –
people going places to create memories
a date, celebratory lunch or movies
with loved ones; hopefully not alone.
Show me a garden with pretty flowers
kids playing games after games,
picnics – food, drinks, ice creme
kindness and love taught in shared space;
that I would say, is the delightful event
when we never fall short of helping hands.
[I am taking part in this month’s #MyFriendalexa campaign by Blogchatter ]
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Steering a path lined with stars, flowers of all colored quartz; She walks in shadows writing her last songs of lost tomorrows, forgotten curses, gratitude misplaced – life goes on heavy hearts, even emptier soul.