Ranting in the solitude
Ranting in the solitude
How many times,
I wonder
Have these winds and trees
Been my silent companions?
This very corner of the balcony...
Missing the mundane simplicity
The feelings, and this
Yearning for normalcy,
Felt them over and over
Until, (like all feelings
That I'd wrung out)
Somewhere they became
A part of my being
Meeting friends doesn't feel enough
Not supposed to either, perhaps? After
All the hours and days and years
Of growing up in the same classrooms
All the years of childhood
All the years of meeting everyday
(Was perhaps, just a routine)
Still lingering, in my thoughts...
The winds, as ever,
Listen in silence,
A tranquil silence;
Oh, their patience with me...
Can they sense when I'm done?
When my ramblings stop...? For
Now the roaring winds come,
They leave, a lullaby...
Never too strong,
These gusts of compassion; these winds
Know me, ever so prone to a cold
So they keep blowing,
Gentle and soft...
There was, somehow,
This warmth... In the winter coldness
A solitude that wasn't so lonely
I kept observing
With tired eyes, but
A peace inside...
The trees, the street lamps,
The winds (or perhaps,
Their effects; leaves twirling down
To silent tunes)
The midnight sky and the hazy clouds,
The nocturnal birds, the strays' howls,
All the sounds...
Of a slowed-down night...
The lights, both artificial and from
The skies above,
Tyndall effect, somewhere?
The creeper leaves
Swaying lightly, like the little political
Flags adorning the block centre.
Thought of counting the trees, but
Perhaps I'd better not,
Than leave out a single one...
And then, again,
These winds
Washing over my being
Thank you
Is all I feel, tearing up
(Gratitude, is it?)
A lone bat whizzes past
As I'm called inside...