I open the door softly and tiptoe into the room. Looking towards the window, I see the silhouette stretched out on the bed. Satisfied, I turn around to leave the room and stop, rooted to the spot.
A streak of moonlight shines into the room through a gap in the curtains. It falls on a little photograph standing by the closet. Soft brown eyes, so like my own, look affectionately down upon me. As a wave of emotion surges up within me, I close my eyes. My thoughts begin to whirl, to rewind. Stop. I see those same brown eyes in front of me, now looking up at me...
Wisps of grey hair fall on a wrinkled face. The firm chin and smiling lips are no longer as in the photograph, but sagging with age. Yet, those eyes are sparkling with a vitality so youthful that it amazes me. So much is communicated as they simply look into mine.
As the small rough hand clasped in mine tightens its grip, I feel the warmth that the voice and lips are unable to express. The hand is burning with heat and my heart skips a beat as I try to suppress the thought that it will soon be cold...
My heart is being wrenched like a wet cloth. The eyes, still looking into mine, seem to sense my grief. As they become milder and envelop me with tenderness and love, all the happy days of the past rush into my head, making my distress harder than ever to bear.
With a final glance at me, they close.
My eyes open with a start. Gazing into my depths from the picture, like pools of warm honey, are the same enchanting eyes.
- Maitri
i like :) very much! lovely imagery!
ReplyDelete