Your life and mine
perpetuated with ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’
If we could
write invisible lines from Shakespeare’s sonnets
or glide on the sun rays
or drum away on the Tibetan plateau
or swim among the stars.
If only,
but the sonnets are written,
sun rays are fickle,
the plateau is no Tibet
and the stars are dead
The noblest of creatures
Love with compassion
The less nobler ones
Love with aggression
And indifference
She treks up the hill
hikes down in the vales
bounces along on the plain
wades through river
braving rain and storm
shadowing the sun
blowing in the direction of the wind
all in the same path he walked
all in the hope
to catch a glimpse of him
if she followed the path he took
she has done it before
she is doing is now
sure she will do again
she has answers to find
for all the questions he left her with
she has a remedy to find
for the ache he left her with
she has got to find a way
to stop her tears
finally
with the rise of the moon
she retires under a tree
a long journey awaits her
she has a quest to fulfill
[Inspired by some random footprints in the sand; a fatherless daughter. As I didn’t jot down the lines, I forgot most of the lines I wove in my thoughts. ]
WordsWorthMillions 