Monday, April 28, 2008
I am sure; there is no one,
Ever to come through this path;
I know. even so, I intensely hanker,
Someone,Dear to my heart,
Will come, one day near me,
Through this way.
Though I hope in vain,
Still hopes and dreams, may one day
Become a reality, and fulfilled...
The spring has, many a time wandered away
With its sweet blossoms, and could not bestow
The tree with its gifts, of floweres
And fruits, for many a year.
It may happen once, when the changing seasons,
In its aberration, may bring around the flowers,
These, are my aspirations,
And hope against all hopes!
I am sure; there won’t be a soul,
Who may chance to come,
Through this forlorn path, to my house.
Yet, I go up to the gate house, stand,
Fumble around, and stare in dismay,
All the distance through the winding road,
To make sure, my destiny is not changing!
I yearn to hear a rustle of a tread
On the cobble stones. familiar one;
Hearken it through the lowest
Decibels of sound, even a whisper, or a murmur.
The footsteps, of someone so close
To my heart, but in vain.
Though no one has promised to return,
While parting, and I reminisce it always;
Despite that, I keep my gate
Ajar, usually for him to enter,
Undemanding, if he chooses so.
Now when I hear an earshot of footsteps,
Near the gate I think for a moment,
My sweet spring has arrived at last,
And hurries to accost him, with all the longing,
Conserved in the heart, for so long.
Standing at the gate, setting my eyes
Across the path and at last find a stranger
Turning back, half way, realizing
He has lost his way;
Even without looking back.