Tea and Prose
Dreaming of low tides,
Long nights under the moonlight
Sitting around logs set on fire
Upon white sand and
Mountains looming under dark skies.
Sea breeze muffles our voices
As we share stories
Holding mugs of warmth
In our mitten covered hands
There’s always so much to say,
To listen,
To laugh,
With friends around
There’s no track of time.
Soon.
Those days will come soon.
The heart aches remembering that which is gone.
You don’t really know how attached you are until you move away, until you’ve experienced what it means to be dislodged, a cork floating on the ocean of another place.
Michelle Obama.
Isn’t it true? We all must have experienced this at some point in our lives. It’s always exciting to move to a new country but who knew I would miss my home, India, so much. I sure do feel like a cork floating on foreign waters.
There was some kind of silence in the air.
Each blamed the other for being cold.
She craved attention.
He was guilty for being away.
She waited to be pampered.
He was afraid of her anger.
They turned away and slept in silence.
All the while missing each other.
Day 41
Into Words 