But if I let u go..
I'll never know what my life would be holding you close to me
Will I ever see you smiling back at me
How will I know?....
The song slowly consumed the inner recess of a soul that tried to hide its tears from the world around.The lounge was full of people but Miriam sat in a corner as if to shun the world from her gaze.
Miriam stirred and stirred the tea.The vapours made mystical images above the hot cup of tea.Her memories,desires and thoughts fumed itself into the vapours.The spoon clinked and clanked as if to remind of jingles once sung.
The tea bag lay on the saucer.
Squeezed,Discoloured.
Tears dropped in a rhytmical fashion..one,two,three and a sudden flow.
Tissues could absorb the tears.But the pain..the burn..the scorched heart..
Her tears burnt her.
She dropped the spoon and took the cup in her hands.
She did not wait to sip her tea slowly.
Just a gulp.
Hot,piping hot tea..
" Oh ! my tongue..throat.."
Two more tears flowed down her cheeks..
i could see miriam..hurt n burnt..
ReplyDeletethis is wt i lov abt d way u write..:)
gloom and despair..farah ,u treat them beautifully..:)
Thanx sweeie...:)))
ReplyDeletegreat to have u back...stirred up some images and memories stashed away somewhere in my mind...words put together for a wonderful experience:)
ReplyDeletehope al of u r doin fine
cheers!
hey...long while...feels gud to hear frm you...hope u r doin grt...tk care...:)))nd in b/w...wt has happnd to blue isle???
ReplyDeletem sorry 4not commenting b4, wow, ur characteristic irony, nic 2read farah stories once again:)..
ReplyDeletesadness caught up in the mesh of farce, did some1 mention post modernism:)..
I like it. very nice..well done!
ReplyDeletewww.ettavattam.blogspot.com
@aravind...hey thanx a lot...was waitin fr ur comments...bt cud hav spared d postmodernism part..u hav been consumed by theory...jus kiddin yaar...:)))
ReplyDelete@shaiju...thank u..
cant help it dear:)..
ReplyDelete