Evenings of life are as special as the mornings, but they become all the more comforting when the heart leads the way. It might be a riddle to solve but sometimes, the journey is all that counts.
As another birthday comes along, treasures that went by remind me of the numerous evenings when solitude meant comfort. When, togetherness became the moon and when expectations came crashing down. Yet, another evening, honeymooning emotions were a treat.
Think about it! We always welcome the mornings and treat them with great enthusiasm. But, evenings are as significant simply because they comfort the lowest points along with being a bedrock for what lies in the future, i.e, the next day.
Evenings have as many different meanings for people as the people themselves. A festival's eve rings the bell for celebrations, an evening with family after a long day is all that brings solace. Meeting a beloved over a cup of coffee rings in some great times or an evening of great weather, a dash of music seems to make up for all the time lost. Symbolically, evenings suggest the end of the day as much as that of life, almost leaving a bitter taste and an uneven glance. There is no denying that such feelings are true but there is also the hope for sufferings and pain to end whether at the end of the day or life. All that remains is the amount of knowledge gained and experience shared.
Watching over a sunset, as the wind blows, a familar face smiles at me through the rear view mirror of the bike;
as a pillion rider, I am in awe of not just the setting sun, but also the biker who takes me along;
A brewing romance, many might call it, but, I wish to name it as the evening that we share, of the several which I am hopeful, are going to come soon.
As we speed through, I remember, those ominous evenings which went by without a trace,
those moments of yearning which left me drowning in hopelessness,
and those special ones where my heart led the way.
Imagination is all I have as the biker seems to sense it and smile,
Infact, the biker looks weary but never seems to complain,
much appreciated, ofcourse,
but you need some rest dear, is all that I manage to say;
Look me in the eyes, I want to say;
as we take a short break;
a simple chit-chat follows without too much to talk;
all, I ask, is an embrace and the biker gladly obliges;
How, I wish, I could replay the evening's happenings always, and whenever I wanted,
craziness is a virtue and I have it in plenty,
sixty precious minutes seemed to make up all the lost time;
greed for more engulfs me,
as the time to say a goodbye to the evening as well as the biker draws upon.
I do not want to leave,
the biker knows it but is as helpless as I am,
all that I now, know as the biker helps me to my physical destination, is my destiny has already made its way.
As another birthday comes along, treasures that went by remind me of the numerous evenings when solitude meant comfort. When, togetherness became the moon and when expectations came crashing down. Yet, another evening, honeymooning emotions were a treat.
Think about it! We always welcome the mornings and treat them with great enthusiasm. But, evenings are as significant simply because they comfort the lowest points along with being a bedrock for what lies in the future, i.e, the next day.
Evenings have as many different meanings for people as the people themselves. A festival's eve rings the bell for celebrations, an evening with family after a long day is all that brings solace. Meeting a beloved over a cup of coffee rings in some great times or an evening of great weather, a dash of music seems to make up for all the time lost. Symbolically, evenings suggest the end of the day as much as that of life, almost leaving a bitter taste and an uneven glance. There is no denying that such feelings are true but there is also the hope for sufferings and pain to end whether at the end of the day or life. All that remains is the amount of knowledge gained and experience shared.
Watching over a sunset, as the wind blows, a familar face smiles at me through the rear view mirror of the bike;
as a pillion rider, I am in awe of not just the setting sun, but also the biker who takes me along;
A brewing romance, many might call it, but, I wish to name it as the evening that we share, of the several which I am hopeful, are going to come soon.
As we speed through, I remember, those ominous evenings which went by without a trace,
those moments of yearning which left me drowning in hopelessness,
and those special ones where my heart led the way.
Imagination is all I have as the biker seems to sense it and smile,
Infact, the biker looks weary but never seems to complain,
much appreciated, ofcourse,
but you need some rest dear, is all that I manage to say;
Look me in the eyes, I want to say;
as we take a short break;
a simple chit-chat follows without too much to talk;
all, I ask, is an embrace and the biker gladly obliges;
How, I wish, I could replay the evening's happenings always, and whenever I wanted,
craziness is a virtue and I have it in plenty,
sixty precious minutes seemed to make up all the lost time;
greed for more engulfs me,
as the time to say a goodbye to the evening as well as the biker draws upon.
I do not want to leave,
the biker knows it but is as helpless as I am,
all that I now, know as the biker helps me to my physical destination, is my destiny has already made its way.
