“We will meet ”
They had promised –
Hands – in – hands.
On valentine day,
She reached there,
After the half awake night.
On the onset of the dawn,
She sat –
On the same gray stone.
“The little kingdom” –
In the big valley.
She waited for him.
In the morning mist,
Humming with joy.
Looking hiding behind
the Bushes –
And watching –
The occassional passers by,
– If he is coming.
In the cold February,
When the mountains.
Encapsulated the fog.
She wore the warmth –
Of the leather jacket –
He gifted her.
Nostalgic she was,
Recalling –
Those sweet berries,
That they collected,
From the green shrubs.
She smiled
Recalling his stupidity,
When he –
Searched for the,
The last berry
In her pockets.
Sitting on the stone,
She looked down,
The shallow stream of water,
Seemed calling her,
Despite the chilling cold,
She put her fingers,
In the stream,
And saw there,
Tiny fishes playing –
Who knew her,
Since long.
She sat there till noon,
The faint sun,
Was on head,
But he did not come.
She looked up
Where –
Birds were playing,
Perching on the branches,
Today – the birds –
Seemed to be teasing her.
The Orchid –
Bloomed full –
But they seemed faint.
Though she was hungry,
The berries were –
Untouched still.
She thought to cry,
But she believed,
He will come.
She sat sad –
Thinking so many things,
Good and bad,
But she believed – he will come,
May he will play
Hide and seek,
Again today,
Like ever before.
But she lost her patience,
And she thought to cry.
She shouted his name.
And the valley vibrated.
And the mountains replied,
Imitating her voice,
And reflecting his name back.
But he did not hear.
All these calls.
In the silence again,
The drop of tears,
Fell on her cheeks.
She sat on the stone.
And she said to the stone –
“It seems – today you are –
As hard – as his heart !”
Even after scolding the stone
She slept on its chest like before,
Putting her hand in the stream.
Waiting for him….
Tears flew –
On the stone –
To melt it down.
But the Stone
Slipped the tears –
Down the stream
Which mixed with water.
She lied on the stone,
Fingers still in water,
And she felt,
In her fingers,
Somethings struck.
She got up to see –
It seemed a petal,
Of some flower,
She looked up,
May be its orchids,
Or something.
She smelt
It was rose.
“You are here !”
She shouted.
And stood up.
And she searched
In the bushes,
Where he used to hide.
And also looked upon the,
Trees – he used to climb.
Her heart was pounding,
The birds teased again.
The Orchid smiled fake.
She looked down the stream –
There were more petals
Coming –
From the stream above.
One following others.
She walked up the stream,
Trembling with joy and cold.
She knew his plays –
Of eternity.
But today –
She decided –
She will not talk
With him.
“He had made her cry.”
She ran above the stream
Struggling with the bushes,
Thorns of shrubs,
And the slippery stones.
The icy water –
Freezing her feet.
She found the petals,
Still carried by
The stream of water,
From a source
Now visible.
Bunch of roses,
Struck in the stones,
Flowers braving,
With the water,
Loosing the petals.
And the four twigs of orchids
Struck in his hands –
Lying near the stream.
He seems frozen.
In the freezing cold,
His shivering hands –
Holding the rarest red orchids –
That he talked once
That grows –
Only in the high mountains.
