It drizzled over the hills, the stones were bathed over. The wind
whistled through the hedges, through the wild yellow flowers. The sky was dark,
the pine trees were drenched in rain. The expanded green meadow lied under the
shroud of darkness. The hills kissed the clouds with its vigor, and the brooks
sang through the creeks, like a beautiful white maiden. The town
whispered the tale of love, which embraced the winter night, which washed its
sorrow in cold droplets of rain, which hugged the chilled breeze of
temptation.
She was awake all these hours, waiting for the return of her love,
the trickling wooden roof waited with her. The fire place warmed her, as she
grew impatient for the insane love to arrive soon. The hay stake lay silent, so
did the spider cob around the corner. The beans stew on the oven got dried,
with the growing anxiety of her. She dreamed of a garden, and some violets
around, the honey bees and the flocking birds, the return of her luck, the
return of her life, the return of her world, where she grew the samplings of
affection and desires ----- desire to be loved, to be hugged, to be delved into
the milk of ecstasy. For every winter night promised her to bring the warmth of
sunshine back. Her torn red fabric of her dress couldn't rest itself to slumber.
The promise to be returned, the hidden tears to be wiped off, the heavy heart
to be lightened... she waited... with heaps of eagerness!
The tea estate stood still, as it waited for the maiden to sing,
the teak wood stood patient for the maiden to come running through the aisle.
they waited to listen to her giggle, to listen to her little heart bloom with
joy, to see her hop on the dew drops, to feel her love. they waited for the
return of her own self. Her dreams remained old and they scared her of the loss
of love. she weaved her dreams under the walnut trees, she believed that her
love would return, it unwind the smile that her heart is waiting for. she
wanted to capture the cold night to her thin blanket forever, she feared of
sunlight, as it would erase her dreams off. the cold night beside the flames of
fire, weaves her dreams to return of her love, her paradise of the self she
longs for.
The blanket murmured the song of return, the return of the depth
where she would like to dive, the depth of paramour, the kisses of promises ,
the promises of life, the life of peace, the peace of making love, the love of
souls, the souls of innocence, the innocence of night - the lost night.
