As a very young child, I would try to run and chase the clouds, trying to win in vain against it. My motley of friends and I would run up towards a nearby empty field which had an abandoned flour mill, and conjure our stories about that mill, the ghosts that haunted.We would roll, laugh, push each other, till it would be evening and our mom's would come looking for us...so many many nights and days later, I still want to relish that spirit which I had as a child.We may grow old, but there are some memories which have the magical power of taking us back to the time of innocence...



Saturday, January 29, 2011

Rain...

I stand by the broken window
and watch the rain fall
I see faces
Some distinct and some vague
Some have great stories to tell
Some to hide

As I stood
I saw an old lady with a wistful look
And I wondered about
The life she must have seen
The children she must have borne
The memories of youth that she sighed upon

I see
Two children with no shirt on their back
Colorful patches on their pants
Arm in arm, singing along the rain
Chasing it, challenging it
No worries could touch them

I also saw
A man, a broken hearted one
Gazing at the rain
With threatening anger
Fighting back pain
Of lost ones, of loved ones ,of ones he never had

Glimpses of life
Ages, years and decades
The rain showed me
As I stood by the broken window
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