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From A Half Remembered Dream

She saw him from a half remembered dream. That morning on her way to work as she stopped to pick up her favourite yellow carnations, she’d thought it was him. Across the street, cars zipping by on the busy street, a mangy dog yelped as it got almost run over by a car, he stood there at the crossing. The light still showed red.

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The park was flourishing with spring flowers, the walkers briskly going their way, the children making the usual ruckus and all this while, he sat reading his book by the lake. It was a serene day. Light breeze in the air, the sun as if in a good mood, shone brightly enough to warm one’s heart to delight.

She had spotted him first; he never once looked up. From afar she could make out his feature – the typical tall dark and handsome man. And he loved reading too. Interesting man, she’d think. Weeks went by and each day motivated, she waited for him to look up from his reading. He never did.

She began walking past him, causing her routine to go haywire. She walked by him a lot. But he never looked up.

Then one day he did. But this was only to look back and smirk at the kids making their usual banter. Her heart had skipped a beat when she saw him. Only if he saw her looking back at him!
The winds changed, bringing a chill to her heart. He still sat at the same bench, reading. She merely walked by or simply sat looking at him. By now the regulars at the park knew she would come for him. But this man was unaware.

Soon the passing by folks looked at her as if she was a lovelorn fool. Yes that she was. Seasons changed yet again. The blooms died leaving the foliage chilled to the core. The trees shed their garment and birds moved homes. There was usual ruckus just a handful of loners like her in the park now.
He was there too, sitting still, reading. Gathering courage, she walked up to him. She saw his beautiful face closely for the very first time. Suddenly the chill in the air warmed her heart. He was gorgeous. She stood there for a while watching him closely as his fingers continued to read.


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He looked the same, standing across the busy street. The florist handed her, her yellow carnations bouquet and yet, she stayed put a while longer. The light turned green and the dog ran across safely. He shuffled his feet for a few seconds and walked slowly, crossing the street. A car screeched, coming to a halt with a loud bump. For a second she lost all hope and almost dashed onto the street… but stopped when she saw him slowly hobble by with his stick. 

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From A Dream

(Image only for representation purpose. Copyright lies with the artist. Not Waving but Drowning Fine Art Print - Trudi Doyle)



He walked, bare feet, on a mass of crushed sea-shells Coarse sand clung onto him, he watched her Afar; sitting motionless on a wind-beaten rock As if waiting for knell
'Wosh-wosh' screamed the waves Gloriously furious, crashing on the moss-covered dock They came high, they came low Yet slow, the sea so magnificent they seemed insignificant He watched her, sitting motionless As if waiting for knell
Ominous clouds o'er head played hide-n-seek with the moon threatening to steal light till noon He prayed, she'd move and he'd take her away
somewhere warm, happy and safe
And then she turned to look at him,
Him eager, she like waif, smiled
his heart in blithe
Only to step deep into the waters
Now safe from the knell



(This is from a dream I had recently)