Writer
It was a phase,
When the little girl loved snowflakes.
Nose pressed to the window pane,
She spent hours gazing at swirling flurries,
Gently breezing through the skies,
Softly and quietly covering the world in white.
Now that phase has passed,
Her tiny flakes of joy are lost,
The girl has turned cold as frost.
She finds the snow miserable and utterly cold.
“A dazzling waste of time!”
As she pulls down the window blinds,
A snowflake silently glides
Rekindling the light in her eyes.
A rustic wooden door,
An old forgotten home with broken walls and bricks,
Dried lifeless plants turned crispy and brown in broken pots.
Does anyone live inside?
It looks like it,
There’s a broomstick outside.
Probably, an old woman?
Probably, a family with too many mouths to feed?
Probably, a man who waited too long for his loved one to drop by?
Probably, a recluse content within himself?
Who knows..
What is the story,
Behind this mysterious attractive door.
Drooping low,
With all that snow.
Hang in there, leaves!
Deep, longing notes,
A slow melody.
Stirring emotions,
Sadly beautiful.
Picking up pace,
Hurried but serious,
Like a wave,
Rushing and reaching
Towards an unknown.
Confused thrumming of strings
Discovering and learning,
Experimenting even..
But never hesitating.
A sound of a human voice,
Calling, reaching out.
Smooth and blessed
Sounds like harmony.
A peaceful rhythm.
He took a long deep breath
& plopped on the couch.
Weekends need to be this way,
Good conversations,
Good company,
Good food,
So relaxing, so restful
& went back to reading a book.
How do we describe this feeling?
This feeling of going unnoticed,
In a world filled with billions of people.
Trapped inside the houses with no where to go.
This pandemic,
This threat,
This worry!
People are panicking,
People are worried,
People are complaining,
People are depressed.
“Are you listening to me?
Are you watching me?
I need attention, give it to me!”
We are craving to return to live our normal lives.
Dreaming of walking freely outside.
When?
The only question that is at all times on our minds.
And, what do we do as we wait?
We breathe.
Till then we breathe!
We take the longest deep breaths.
To calm our unsettling and restless minds.
I have tried and tried
So many times,
To win your heart,
To make you smile.
But every time I try,
In your fright, you
– hide and cry.
I continue to wait with a sigh!
Will it take days or ages?
Come and stop by my side.
Her lazy buttery fingers,
Dig deep into the bag of chips,
She gives them a good lick,
& resumes watching her chick flick.
Oh how lovely it is,
To come across a quaint country cottage,
That serves breakfast and tea.
A white arched picket fence at the entrance,
Decorated with pink cherry blossoms.
I walk across the green lawn
and enter a warm 1980s cottage.
The fireplace hearth in the kitchen
Warms the wooden interiors.
Baskets are filled with breads,
Glass jars full of jam,
A steaming kettle brews tea,
Pots and pans hang on hooks,
I settle down to read a book.
Why isn’t anybody around,
I say, “Hello?” and wait for a sound.
A little girl runs across the room
With flour on her messy French braid ponytail,
Followed by an old maid,
Who stops midway noticing my presence.
“How may I help you, today?”
I smile and say, “This is such a beautiful place!”
I get a curt nod and she says,
“We are closed for the day”.
I never had the courage to visit again,
I sometimes pass by the quaint country cottage,
and admire it from far away.
If you often find yourself lost in thoughts
Let them all be flowery.
Why give room to the dark and dreary.
Nuraine Sadaf 