Writer
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.
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.
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.
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.
She wore white and flinched.
All these years, lavender was her color.
Lavender were the sheer curtains rising and falling with the wind.
The velvety pillow covers on which she rested her head to read.
Her closet had different shades of lavender,
Plum-colored scarves, mauve satin shirt,
Floral lilac dresses, amethyst gems in the rings.
Wine-colored sweaters, regal purple heels.
The sheets on the bed had stains of lavender.
The light shaded rug on the floor was faded in purple.
In a frenzy, she had painted the wall in the corner of her room purple.
The hanging basket in her balcony bloomed with fake mulberries.
On cold days of winter, she sipped hot chocolate from her periwinkle mug,
While a lavender throw lay at her feet.
The streaks on her auburn hair were purple.
Her nails painted purple.
Today, she had to forego the purple crown.
For a white bridal gown.
What’s this sunlight outside my window on a cold autumn day,
Is it summer again?
Please tell me it’s summer!
So, I can wear my floral dresses and walk down the streets,
Without fearing the chillness on the tips of my earlobes.
Can I eat a fudgy ice cream sandwich cake for breakfast?
Alas, my weather app says 4 degree Celsius
Or, should I rather say 39 degree Fahrenheit.
Albeit, it’s all the same, it is still cold outside.
So, I might as well grab my comforter
And snuggle deep inside it again.
Day 31 Inktober – Crawl
Crawling through 2020,
Inktober drawings saved each day,
And I guess I snailed it.
*End of Inktober 2020*
Day 30 Inktober – Ominous
It was a full moon night,
A black raven was in sight,
Was that a howling cry?
Something ominous seems to arise.
On slippery slopes,
On rocky uneven terrain,
On snow piled grounds,
On long roads ahead,
You‘be been a saviour and companion.
Thank you for making my walks easy and comfortable,
Dear trek shoes!
Nuraine Sadaf 