A middle-aged man
sits alone in the garden
with a train of thoughts
hooting past his brain.
Oblivious of the full moon
and stars, scent of flowers
traffic on a mad rush
a large number
of crowds, cool, warm wind
blowing from the faraway Arabian Sea
the middle-aged man
sits alone in the garden.
In his prime
he was not alone in the garden.
She was with him
like a shadow every evening
whose proximity lifted his
spirits up to skies
who taught him
the sweetness of love
who gifted him the sweetness of love
who shared romantic feelings
pain, sorrow and secrets
occasional cracking of jokes with him
the moments of sharing
each other’ feelings
he thought there was a
meaning to life.
They felt kind of
relief in each other’s life
with no train of thoughts
blaring past their life.
A man sits alone in the garden.
‘If and when we are
separated from each other
if and when a moment
of bidding goodbye
what would be your
response’ – though looking
pleasant, he could see
spring of tears
flowing
down her face.
A kind of ill-omen
he could sense in her words.
Tremors seemed like
running down his body.
‘No, No, No, I won’t ever
let such a possibility
happen, I am sure we are
destined to be together’.
He couldn’t imagine
such a scenario ever.
All said and done
one day without waving
her hands and with an
invited smile she vanished
from him.
The next day she didn’t
come to him.
With gloomy face, with
tears coursing down his face
he waited, waited and waited
for a prolonged time.
For a long time, he couldn’t
visit the garden, he didn’t
visit the garden.
Ever since she disappeared
from his life
his face turned gloomy
with the train of thoughts blaring past his brain.
Look
a man in his middle-age sits alone in the garden
fondling those days
he spent with her
nothing but that….nothing but that.
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