thumb_IMG_6433_1024

Such a story

Scintillating –

The intrigue, the suspense

Riveting words that spellbound

 

Then the climax

Bittersweet ending

Still savouring the words

Of that pivotal chapter

 

A book we can’t put down.

thumb_IMG_5806_1024

I made this for you

Who have not nursed a child

Though mother to all

 

Who held up a torch

When I tripped in the dark

You guided my way

 

You were born for this

To pick up the broken parts

Make them whole again

 

Your little bundle

Is wrapped in those of us

Whose lives cross your path

 

For the love of a mother

Can be in one woman to another

 

( A special dedication to special women in my life on mother’s day)

hands touch

She knew exactly what he meant when he said that he felt grounded.

It was that sense of escape from the daily grind, from the onslaught of the noise in your head and the responsibilities that handcuffed you in claustrophobic spaces.

After all this time, like the little town, she was still his refuge, the one he thought of when he had thoughts to spare. She alone understood his unspoken words.

They were her words too.

Though miles apart, she felt his longing.

She understood how to make him smile again.

That little town, stood as proxy for her heart.

 

 

little town

Lately, he had felt a growing restlessness, plagued by memories best left in tissue wrap in that special corner of his mind, that place of solace when the music ended, colluding with his empty whiskey glass.

So it surprised him to feel a sense of tranquility as he drove into the little town, nestled against the mountain with its neat tree lined  streets.

Suddenly, there she was, stepping out of the shadows – a figment of his imagination?

He had to share this moment with her, make her see what he saw.

She responded to his message immediately with: “I know!”