What the maple leaves wanted to tell . . .

The steps whispered through the fallen maple leaves. The umbrella like trees seemed so silent in breeze. The empty seats of wayside benches reminded me of the times I spent last winter. Sweeping the dried leaves, I sat on one end of a bench. Memories flew like the overwhelming air around me.

It was the season of love, togetherness, and enrichment. We were walking through the park, talking so much about the day’s work-out, issues and fun. The smiling face of him, nothing can defeat it, did never allow me to snatch my eyes from him. He was my best friend ever. The ‘was’ doesn’t mean that now he is not my best friend, but more than above it.

He cracked jokes instantly, but needed to manage often to unlock the laughter behind it. So it became a slogan after each joke that “Oh Yaar!!! Sorry again, I did forget that it’s you”, as I was a delayed responsive in jokes. My, “I didn’t get it”, occasionally made him lose his temper.

 He was so hesitant to show the care though it was deep inside. I could read his eyes and his heart as well. A step ahead in sensing his emotions, I always lost attention to the ambience.

One day, after a long break of silence, we met under the shadows of the maple trees in the evening. Sitting at the two ends of the bench, the silence which surrounded us was fighting hard to find the key to unlock the sense of self.

To be continued . . .

I see . . . But . . .

I see mangroves

But the fruits are rotten

I see rivers and streams

But the water is coloured

I see trees and plants

But the leaves are burnt

I see roads and footpaths

But the ways are lost

I see the sun and the moon

But the brightness is spotted

I see stars and planets

But the days are taking them away

I see skies and horizon

But far from my reach

I see high and low tides

But the waves are always parting

I see seagulls in the sea shore

But to say goodbye they come

I see mornings and evenings

But arriving only for departing

I see days and nights

But filled with egos and masks

I see many faces displayed

But shadows hinders clear vision

I see birth and death

But filling emptiness somewhere

I see festivals and celebrations

But someone is alone in the crowd

I see the hoppers singing

But forgetting to earn for the falls

I see life and lie

But surprisingly complimenting each other

I see vision and mission

But losing identity satisfying the other

I see the seasons changing

But never filling the space of the void

I see relations and the involved

But asking for their own space

I see myself staring at me often

But with a question “why do you care?”

I cant see the answers anywhere

But I believe that someone knows why is it so