Uniting and celebrating the best "Writers" and "Poetry" from around the world centred out of Destiny Church Wakefield
Round and round
Round and round goes his life. So does his mind – round and round. One more round around that birch tree, singing songs, laughing away, with the sun in the eyes.
One more around the boulder – sun-streaked. He catches the glimpse of two silhouettes, their arms around each other. Two hearts beating in sync with each other. One scene after another.
Pattering feet, childish chortles, and milk bottles. School uniforms, starched, ironed. Playing hide and seek, report cards, frolicking in apple orchards, jobs in alien lands, dancing maladroitly to the tune of a thousand and one materialistic bands.
Then an empty nest. The two silhouettes are reduced to one. One – lonely, stooped under the weight of memories cooped inside four walls.
He waits – to close his eyes for that eternal rest. Will the nest once again pulsate with the pitter-patter of tiny feet? Will, he once again be lovingly greeted with tiny arms flung around sturdy shoulders?
The other oldies in the Old Age home, euphemistically called the Happy Retreat exchange reminiscences, playing perfunctory games, smiling through parched lips. He almost slips, grips the railing watching them tight-lipped, but sees no oldies, only a young twosome, sitting on a boulder – sun-streaked. And smiles a smile- tear-streaked.
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