A dry spell...

abandoned farm, Dublin, Ohio

Raking the stillness
I leant on hope
watching memory gravels
clogging my rusty desires
and I fell on a lost trail
wounding my pride.
I yearn for warmth
of a woolen caress
to smooth wrinkled needs.
I search sunshine
in the blazing wet spirits
burning my feisty soul
I hear a cough
from mislaid wishes
mowing at wry silence
I believe it is
a momentary interlude
trespassing my life
I trust it will pass
with the rolling wheel of time
into a new dawn
bringing shimmer of faith.
~ET 06/09/2011

Written for Magpie tales #81.I tampered with the brightness of the pic,my apologies! Do visit other takes on this prompt:)

Do people really change with time?

unidentified photo, found in a Missouri antique shop

as shared by Tess at Magpie tales

It was a hot July afternoon. Hitting the 3rd bottle of Heineken from ice box, he wiped sweat from his forehead on his upturned sleeve. What is it with summers? First you wait for them to come by and when they do, you can’t seem to wait for them to get over.

Okay Jeff! Just one more plank and the deal is over. Stop grumbling! He cuffed himself mentally.

Keeping the bottle aside, as he was working on the last plank he remembered summers weren’t always so grumpy. In fact, as a child he never felt the heat of it. Along with three of his friends he used to have a lot of fun in summers. They had their own Fantastic Four version, scooping around the small town looking for trouble. He grinned at the things they sometimes found out. Folks here were scared of them especially during summers when schools were off and the fantastic four were let loose. Moreover, July was a special month to him because it was his birthday month. He used to rule their group for an entire day with no school, no studies, lots of cake, many surprise gifts & just pure fun.

Lost in his thoughts, he hammered the nail by mistake on his thumb.
With an Ouch! and serious cursing he was brought back from flash back.
Silently appraising his work he jumped down the last tree step he just plugged in.

There! It looks good. It could use one more coat of paint.

He had been working on the tree house which the four of them had built and battered. All his friends long gone their separate ways were coming in town a week later and he wanted to give them a big surprise by bringing back some of their memories. He was considering about that paint job, rubbing at the back of his neck, when a car honked from behind him. It didn’t register him instantly that the honking was for him as he was spaced out again with his mind imagining the dumbfounded faces of his friends when they see their tree house again. Screeching tootle of the car then pierced through his thoughts and he winced as he turned around.

Surprise. Surprise. Surprise.

Three voices screamed simultaneously from the car.

Holy shit! What are you guys doing here? Jeff yelled as he ran towards the car.

Emma all but shrieked

Hap Hap Happy Birthday Jeffie boy!

Just the way she always used to wish him. Behind her Erick was smiling widely.
From the front seat, Ella whistled wolfishly.

Speechless as he saw his three friends beaming at him, he wondered did anybody ever get over their childhood?

***Written for Magpie Tales #79. Have a look and enjoy some refreshingly nice takes on the prompt!

Such is life....

Image by Tess as

shared at Magpie tales

Jane stepped on the front porch of her little cottage. She hadn’t seen Robin all day, but she was too tired to think about her 5year old. Juggling her newborn, Kierra, from one hip to other she searched for the keys in her purse.

If only her husband was still alive, he would have been there with her all along.
In a moment of helplessness, soothing her restless baby, she dropped the keys on the door mat. Cursing under her breath, with every ounce of her strength she retrieved them.
Three bloody stitches, big ones all paining at the same time. How is somebody expected to manage them singlehandedly all at once was getting beyond her.
But she got Kierra out of it, she smiled.

She opened the door and stood for a whole minute to look around.
Where are you Robin? What are you up to?

Placing her bags by the door, trying to ignore her empty stomach, she went straight to Robin’s room. As expected he was not there.
She dragged herself to the adjacent room, once a parlor, was now turning into a store room. It was locked from inside. She knocked and called out.

Robin, are you in there? Mama’s home, sweetie.

Coming said a muffled voice.
The door slowly opened and she was spellbound.

All messed up, Robin was standing there and beaming at them. The room was painted with a big welcome note in wobbly words, for his kid sister. Sparkles on every free surface and a small table in the middle of the room with small candles and clumsily put together peanut-butter-lettuce sandwiches and baby bottle of milk and whole jug of lemonade.

Tears in her eyes, her faith in God rekindled!

Written for Magpie tales #78. Have a look at other lovely takes on the prompt.

Cold Summer Evening…

Summer Evening, Edward Hopper, 1947

It was happening, after months of waiting, it was happening.
She thought of the time she had patiently wasted. On him.
To adjust and to adapt to his whims and ways.
10 years, 2 months and 14 days, but who was counting?
And she was weak in math, but she managed the counting.

She could have been anywhere at this moment, enjoying a drink at
the pub down the street or having her shop in the countryside.
For crying out loud, she could have been happily married and would
have been enjoying a mid summer make out on the portico on a quiet farm.

But she was here, she had to be here.
How couldn’t she be here after spending so much time scheming to get to him?
She almost choked at her resentment.

Any minute, and she knew, he will kneel down and say it.
He will give her that warm knowing smile, waiting for her obvious yes.

But did she want this? Want him? After all this time?
After all her sacrifices?
She had to make a quick decision before he said those words.
And she made her choice, love for him overwhelmed her.

A hand on his heart, he said those words. Some words.
She was dumbstruck.

I am getting married. Waiting a beat. To your sister.
I finally asked her, today.
And he smiled.
She shivered.

Blind-folded or blind-fooled in love, she still remembered that mid-summer night.
******
Written for Magpie Tales #77. Thank you Tess, for that excellent prompt.

Hidden secrets

This one is for Magpie Tales. Have a look at the amazing takes on this prompt from fellow bloggers.

Image by Skip Hunt
as shared at Magpie Tales

It was getting quite dark outside; she couldn’t see clearly through the mess.
She reached out for the last box and gave up. It was too dark to make out its contents.
With a grunt she stood up and searched for the switch.

It had to be somewhere around here.

Cursing a little, she started feeling her way through the clutter in her basement. Finally her hand hit the switch and light poured in the damp and dirty basement.

That’s when she saw the discarded rusty fan lying in the far corner of the room, on the floor. Along with the rust she saw the fan tinted with lot of yellow patches.
She went closer to get a better look at it.
Squinting, she picked it up. Scraping the little patch, she tried to smell it.

Hmm.
So this is where her jelly beans and orange gumdrops went. Her missing candies have been coming down here, been devoured by sticky-hands. She was sure the culprits were her 4 year old twins.

Boxes forgotten, she stomped her way up to the nursery.

Just me and Just you.....

Caught up in my book of memories
with every turn of these crunchy pages
I recall each solitary moment
we spent in cradle of happiness

A nudge here, a kick there
a grin for shared private joke,
a wink for a stolen coke,
a hug for euphoric madness,
a lunatic day of total shoplift,
a panic on burnt food
- nothing to eat,
a joint cry on onion peel
or was it a combined cry for no from him?

A shout on unruliness,
an understanding silence,
a push for confidence,
a pull of remembrance,
a dance in new outfits,
a whisper on heard tidbits,
a fight with wooden spoons,
a drink on twilight moons,
a prank on ungrateful neighbor,
a gossip of hard day’s labor;
-each page gracefully enfolds
an album of reminiscences

I challenged that sky
with the vastness of my joy
when I found a hand to hold
with a heart of gold
Friends better entwined than us
God kept them for himself
For you are my closest friend
And I am yours, too
We're stuck to each other
Just me and just you

Running temperature and mind!

The other day, I was taking a walk, now I don't know why I was walking in the middle of an afternoon with the sun sparing not even a slightest thought to me...but after walking some I was thirsty, sweaty and tired..You get the picture, right?
So I leaned against a tree trying to compose myself...I did not notice it at first, may be my sweat was winning over rational thinking...But I noticed, rather felt, after sometime that the bark was warm at a particular spot...rest all was cool against my burning skin.
A normal person should think that somebody might have just left this very spot, doing just exactly what I was doing...
But thinking of the thoughts that crossed my mind then, they were really funny...err, quite foolish actually...
My first thought, am I leaning against a ghost leaning against this tree? Couldn't have been more absurd...Wait listen to the second one...is something going on inside the tree at this very spot? N seriously, wait and read on...next I started looking up if there was a gap in those thick leafy braches, that the sun rays were burning up this spot... Well, this could have been a good one unless goddamn it! why wasn’t I feeling those sunburns if I was leaning at that very spot….Okay I won't mention the next one...it's pretty lame...if you have't already labeled me with that, that is...
After a few minutes of total insanity, my sulking consciousness gave me mental kick and I stopped gawking at the tree so suspiciously...I was attracting quite a few curious looks from the audience gathering around...humph...A nosy audience always brings you back to reality, I guess, a staring one especially...
I tried to shoo away my convoluted thoughts and excused myself and practically ran away from the spot...
Later, I was told by an ever-enthusiastic friend of mine that a duffer created a ruckus down the lane. I thought it best not to mention who the duffer was!!!

P.S.: I stopped taking afternoon strolls…They are truly injurious to my mind!!!
P.P.S: How does one wel-come summer? well I just did...

An affair with emotions….

Late one night I sat down thinking about different expressions on the faces passing by and mused at their trigger points. I zeroed down to emotions and this was what I came up with...

Ever seen that vast sea-
Still water& bustling waves
Ever seen that cosmic sky-
Burning sun & serene rainbow
I have dissolved velvety memories in this sea
spewed dwindling thoughts into this sky

I have been the needle that stitches its prick
I have been the wick that melts its candle
I have been vulnerable & quivering
-coy silence on sensuous red lips
I have been mushy juicy cherry
-crushed between tangled tongue licks

I have felt sovereignty
of a bird set out of its cage
Free to fly-
I have felt confinement
of the trap of his arms
me ready to comply –

I have been pleased like the stray string
Just freed from a windblown tousled hair
I have been content like the clay
Secured in a thick pricey ware

I have been transparent like
black on white love letter
-from gramps to granny
I have been mysterious like
black dreamy almond eyes
-his martini’s ignominy

I have had the imprint of my gold band
-dint of thirty years
I have had the mark from a winning dive
-dent from jolly peers

I have been drunk for the losing goalie
-Had a thing for him
I have been drunk for crossing finishing line
-Got a kiss from him

I have been caught unawares
By a graze from a hurrying stranger
I have been lured into awareness
By a flick of robe over my shoulders

I have banged my head
For a yes to an on-the-knee proposal
Words stuck somewhere-
I have banged my head
For a song strummed on my guitar
Words blurred somewhere-

I have ached
for the lost Men in white,
on a lonely stormy night,
for the mother in labor,
for a birdie at mercy of a fowler .
I have missed
My mamma’s pat, bro’s smack
A dad’s high-five, my friend’s spank.
I have been perplexed
confusion rolling with the pen between my fingers
uncertainty potent in my weary cringers.

Cursed them, blessed them
Wished them, missed them
Emotions have played mayhem
pushed my mind aside, clogged my thoughts
pressed my heart tight , caressed my feelings
Emotions have nudged life
in my momentary existence,
in my fleeting subsistence.

For a friend...

I have been real busy for the past two months, but no excuses...Here is my next post...

One of my friend is getting married and shifting places...

I am gonna miss her a lot...It's a bitter-sweet emotion. I wish her the best in her life ahead :)

This one is for her:

I wasn’t looking for it,
Or I thought so.
Until it came & found me
Wrapped me in its splendid warmth
Like the bonfire on a chilly winter dawn
Smiling brightly over me
Like the neon stars on a full moon night

But it came and went
Or I thought so.
Like the time flickering by
But, the besotted I resolved
Until chance comes again,
I'll let my thoughts dance upon the wind.

As I look
beyond the ripples of my reflections
to examine my inner self;
the ripples begin to fade
As the reflection lays beside me
grasping my hand
the vision of my reflection appears…
it has a name,
I think they call it friend
But I call it U!

~ET 2010

P.S.: Friends Forever! :)

Threads of time...Magpie#36

Willow's Magpie Tales is bustling with poems on yet another interesting prompt:




Fate plays a game without a score
bringing me back where I grew
Musing at the apron of loneliness
covering me, hovering over me
in a room once painted with memoirs
opening a window down memory lanes
joints cricking , reminiscence aching
dusting those sun-kissed
work hardened hands
brows wiggling against blinding
rays of my county’s sun.

I see weeds sprouting despondently
worming a dried up backyard
where we rushed over fences
to catch the first carol every Christmas
where the castles in sandboxes
were the only known sands of time
when edgy rainy dull Sundays
stranded us in our rooms
waiting with noses against this window
chin upon clenched hands
sniffing running noses
spirits only soaring higher by the minute.

I changed, aged, matured
but this place remains unaffected
I’ve grown wings, wrinkles
challenged, failed, bruised with time
stabilized which was a gamble then
when daring an enemy-clad sibling
was the only mission in tow
failure was getting a B in art
while that neighbor’s acing it
bruising meant a wounded knee
or a scraped elbow over sunset
times do flicker and people do differ
you realize smiling a little
that was then & this is now…

~ET/MD, 2010

Magpie #35...

Willow's Magpie Tales is up with a new prompt...Oh God! There comes a next one, in a blink of an eye!



I have two pieces for this:

Take #1

“It’s amber or…hmph…may be chrome yellow” she said.

“It’s dark yellow, I think”, he said.

“There is nothing known as dark yellow”

“Why is that? If you can have dark green or brown, what’s wrong with dark yellow?”

“No! It could be Urobilin or Goldenrod” her chin going up.

“Ahh…could be what?” he gave a no-clue expression.

“I said…”, then she looked up at the stranger beside her “Urobilin?...Goldenrod?” giving him a duh expression.

He shrugged with a blank expression.

“Let’s ask the artist. Who is it by the way? Do you know him?”

Narrowing her eyes and searching for a name on the painting…
”It’s some Nick Tad”, he interrupted.

“Ohh, do you know him?” she started scanning the room.

He removed his hands from his pockets, uncurling them first; pressed his lips tightly.
Coughing “Hi, this is Nick Tad and it’s dark yellow”, he informed.

Turning around, he left the room smiling; leaving behind a gaping completely insulted lassie.

****

Take #2

Arid, dry they fall
without a din
along a calm breeze
waving, swinging
back and forth
beckoning autumn
blithely ardent
lay in a golden-stretch
those aged leaves.

Churned, stomped
underneath a sadist being
they soar edgily
flinging dust
now making noise
summoning winter
sullenly somnolent
lay in a earthy-mellow
those aged leaves.

Magpie #34...first for me!

My first magpie on Willow's prompt.

Solitary, wickless
you blew out my fire
i still burn
silly ceiling fan
you chipped my wick
maiden, naïve.

You forgot
my metal still tepid
ashy tad hung in air
you overlook
the smudge I left
in the cold night.

I stand tall
abut the pane
sunshine warming me
glowing
in myriad colors
no more lonely
no more gloomy.

Animated bus ride!

Rachel Fox drives the poetry bus this week and she has given an interesting prompt for ride.
This is my ticket for the ride-

Tom & Jerry

Roll n Spin, Spin n Roll
my eyes crawl along their trail
Hoping, jumping, chasing
Tom hunts Jerry, or
my hazy mind asks
is it Jerry hunting Tom?

Jerry’s shrewd attempts
wrecking, stomping
Tom’s feline femme seductions,
unrelenting struggles
to slice, chomp Tom
or chipping his tail
under that waffle iron,
hitting him with mace, club, mallet
brings out lion-in-Tom.

“Cheese” meows Tom,
clicks Jerry in gobbledygook trap,
stashing him between bread crumbs
sautés amid lettuces, creamy pottages
in peppery & salty layers.

Loving & hating
they come to you
mind you!
they will saunter
in & out of one room
to other, then comes kitchen
followed by garden
two musketeers
will create mayhem
& humiliate laughing gasps
out of you.

A Special Dedication...

I wanted to dedicate this post to two close friends of mine. They did something really exceptional this week. They have been a great help ever since I have known them but some days are just indescribable (and I am doing my best to put it into words!). S & R this is for you.
Yes you and you! Sitting there, reading this with a smile on your face and amusement glittering in those eyes. I can see it! This one is for you buddy!

What did they do, You ask? *with wide eyes*…Yeah?
Okay, so without further ado, I will dive straight into it.

It was Ganesh Visarjan (Departing of Lord Ganesha, to those who do not know this tradition) and there was heavy traffic all over Pune. I left office to catch the office bus scheduled at 8 o’clock in the evening unaware of the severity of the situation outside. It hit me belatedly and smack on my senses that buses had not left since 6:00 pm. The last bus left at 5.15. Since then due to heavy traffic buses were stationed in the premises sound and safe. Me and my friend (a female colleague…ahh chuck it, M I am referring to you!) just like everybody else patiently started waiting outside our office premises. Standing. 9:00 o’clock went by, 9.30p.m became 9.45 p.m.

My friends S and R (both guys) were worried about us because normally to reach my place it takes an hour. From where the bus drops me I have to walk for 15 mins. Going by the heavy traffic it was going to take more than 2.30 hrs to reach. So it was completely unsafe to be reaching and walking home after 12:00. These two guys come in shifts and have cabs at their disposal after every one hour. Normally they leave by 9.30p.m. Their cabs were ready to leave. S stays very much near my place but R goes in exactly opposite direction and it normally takes him more than 1.30 hrs to reach his place. So S after talking to me and hearing my panic-stricken voice, had a long discussion with R (as they put it), got down from his cab went to his cubicle got a temporary bus pass and rushed practically all the way from his cube to the bus at 9.50p.m. At around 10.00p.m finally the engines started reviving and buses were scheduled to leave.

R wanted to accompany us, but he would have had to stay overnight at S’s place and he quite literally regretted for not making it.

I reached my place just after midnight. S left me at my doorstep (!) and went home enjoying the walk at midnight. He says, “I should have some such walks. Middle of the night, with my mobile phone shrieking loud music in my ears, no one in sight, cold night, with just me and my thoughts.” Now how cool is this person?

By the way, M got down before me and she had quite a few people to accompany her to her place. I, M & S had a time of life on that simple-late-night journey back home which we will never forget for many years to come, I am sure M and S agree. Instead of getting irritated by the bus-service, traffic and getting agitated we enjoyed the journey. We relished a big huge Cadbury (courtesy S), cracked jokes, sang, hooted, clapped, called R to give updates, encouraged others and basically lived in the moment!

All things considered, all of us reached safely. Bless S, R & M!

M you are a dear!And I respect you a lot for reasons known to me and me alone...
Thanks to S and R for being such caring kind friends. What you did was quite out-of-the-ordinary. I am glad I have friends like you :)
I can’t seem to praise the three of you enough!

Furthermore, I would like to mention the flock I hang with, they are really incomparable and diverse minds. They all have something special in them. Each one of them has carved a mark on their own and are just as special. So taking the occasion in hand, I would thank them all for being who they are. Knowingly or unknowingly you have made a difference.

Cheers,
*clink*
MD/ET

P.S.: I would have liked to elaborate more on the last note, but I feel ya’ll deserve a separate dedicated post to describe each one of you in detail. When I start appreciating you all, I can’t seem to stop. So stay tuned, it’s in pipeline.

A Naïve passenger for the poetry bus...

I am Monstrously late for the bus this week. Argent is driving the bus here for DFTP...DFTP asks us to write about non-denominational wedding, but at the same time insists not to be slushy,tacky,cheesy or mention any religion or God.Writing about a wedding and not to be slushy is tough, but when has been a poetry bus ride easy. I have no personal experience of this, so I am running late for the bus. This poem is written in a hurry to catch the bus. I am writing this based on my observation. I've been observing the most lovely couple i know- my parents for now 24 years and this is just a jist of it.

My not-so fair life...
26 years to search you
Just a lifetime to hold you

Only a minute to kiss at I Do
A pout to say Will do

A smile to submit to you
An innocent lie to say no cue

A hug to coax me for work
An embrace to impede me leaving for work

A nudge to say speak up
A sideway glance to say shut up

A sigh to convince me
A raised eyebrow to question me

A punch to tell the truth
A peck to lie for you

A glance to make me forget everything
A wink to pull at my heart

You are a pill for a miracle life

A jewel for a lovely wife!

P.S.: I have no clue how the other passengers managed to pull through this, but they did it smoothly.

For the bus...

Heya all! I have been down with a terrible flu and couldnot hit this place for gosh(!) three whole weeks.And I missed two poetry busses and many wonderful reads. I will be catching up with all those pretty soon. Here's for one more striking poetry bus challenge given by Colorful Marion and she tells us to write on colors. Here you will find other passengers with their beautiful poems. :) Marion is influenced by yellow and it shows in her brilliant poem.

This one from me:

White

I wonder which white
-I am most fond of
Something in white
-ticks me off

Must be the silky white
-of my wedding gown
Or are those white tulips
-from the neighboring town

It oughto be the white of
-Christmas-stocking’s loaded sock
It gotto be the white of
-pearl under that shiny rock

Could be the milky white
-toothy-grin of her baby
Might be the white bear
-in her musical lullaby

Oh is it the white jumpiness
-to the road to altar
Maybe the white fear when
-caught puncturing a car

Yes it must be my gram’s
-Salt-n-pepper bushy hair
Or is it my granny’s
-buttercream-frosting’s share

Should be the twinkling white
-spread of glittery stars
It could be the white of
-dappled moon’s attar

But mostly it’s idyllic moments
-in every white
Something that strums
-in my heart so bright
& right.

On the bus...early morning!

This week the po-tree bus is been driven by ever-enthusiastic Chiccoreal. She has given us three options and I have chosen the first option which says:

I want you to write a poem on the first thing that you think, see, feel, do, taste, etc.,POPS into your head BE IT THE DOUBLE DECKER ON THE POETRY BUS or BE IT A DAGWOOD DOUBLE DECKER SANDWICH IN THE MORNING ABSOLUTELY THE FIRST THING IN THE MORNING!!! be honest! I MEAN THE FIRST THING YOU DO IN THE A.M. ABSOLUTELY THE FIRST THING!!!

I am being absolutely, truly honest about the first thought that crossed my mind first thing today morning ( Guess that is what I think first thing every morning)

Morning Blues

When morning
dawns new beginning
when sunrise
breaks between two nights
Tangled in the sheets
freezing from the sleets
reliving the night
rendezvous under moonlight
I wake up, look at you
blank without a cue
hear you sing
merry old ding
munching on remnant sleep
canonized recitals
cajoling my siesta
humming in my ears
searching you with languid hands
eager for the contact
agitation vivid in my eyes
scratching my head
I finally holler mutely
Where is that danged stop button
on this alarm clock?

I stare blankly
time ticking away
cursing the unknown
fully awake
charged for the challenge
called--today.

Onboard-Poetry bus!

An Inspirational writer, Enchanted Oak (Chris Alba) is driving the poetry bus engineered by superb writer Totalfeckineejit. Chris has given us two age-old pics as the prompt and this is my entry for the ticket. Please visit Chris's blog for reading the different versions of these pics putforth by wonderful fellow passengers.

~~~~

Drifting Reality!

-Blue fingers, cold hands

itching to be set free

tight binds

breaking me from inside

suffocating, harrowing me

finding my way in the dark

aimless, helpless, powerless

dragged by the devil himself

something screeched

yearned for attention

coming to my senses

whacked on head

I realize

the class is over.

Wishes!

A belated Happy Independence to all my fellow Indians. Belated because, I had no net access yesterday :( but I wrote this yesterday(I swear!) and I'm posting it first thing today morning!
To my mom's surprise I was up early yesterday(At 6.00 am)! I went for a morning walk; saw kids going patriotic;flags being hoisted at various places. Oh I got nostalgic.I remembered my school days. I used to be in the singing group; the entire school listening to us while the flag was being hoisted. *sigh* miss those days...
Everywhere the rich tricolour was making it's mark and I just loved looking at it! It was a beautiful morning! :)

So here's wishing ya'll a Super Independence Day...
Enjoy the freedom...Be Good..Be Nice..Be Harmless!
I m trying my hands on writing a Haiku#

Independence is

when chains transform into silken strings-

'You' becomes a second self.

(Taking Inspiration from Dave:) )

Catching the bus...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY Jeanne!!!

Jeanne Iris the birthday girl is driving the poetry bus this time on a very short notice.She has given us three options for this week. One is flash Fiction on Mid-summer memories and I am trying my hands on that...(This person is Somebody's Somebody...It was narrated to me one summer) Tough one but very inspirational.Some summers are not that playful, I realized it that day.

*********

Chase...

For the past one hour he was on the run, well aware that he had crossed the line.
But this is needed, he assured himself.

They had just won the peak ZZ2 and he had been instructed to distract the militia.
Hungry Alsatians snarling and yapping behind him; men following them.
He was running out of his breath keeping this charade.

Oh shut up you idiots! You are making me nervous. He silently cursed those barking dogs.
Which way next Jeff? Where next? There is a ravine about 2kms from here and this way I will have to scuttle more and I might end up dead early. No use; can’t go this way; I have to take the ravine.

He started sliding downstream, towards the ravine.
Yes this is the right one. This will take longer time for search.
Ha! Longer time, it’ll take an entire night.

He edged nearer to the ravine.
Now what?Jump down just like that?Nah…
He turned around and back again. You won’t have me that easily.

There was a tree at the edge of the ravine, with a foot’s distance between them. He ducked behind it and wrapped a big boulder with his blood smeared jacket and sent it rolling down the other side into the ravine.
Ha, gotcha…Now keep tracking me you hounds…

The Alsatians got confused. They could smell him in the ravine and along the edge upto the tree.
For a split second he leaned on the tree behind him, rested his head, closed his eyes and caught-up with his breath. He heard a rustling noise from the nearby bush. His alert mind missed a beat. It was a hare, but a terrified one. They stared at each other. He realized and looked down; he was standing on a rabbit hole. He stared back at the hare. What a melancholy? Both of them could not move. He wanted to buy time and the hare could have been a meal to those frustrated Berger Allemands. But at least one could survive.

One wrong move and it would all end. He moved his foot forward…
Furthermore…
...
Now on the edge…
...
Little more…
...
A second passed…
...
And he slipped…
...
Into black awareness…
Into Time…
Under the epitaph in front of me…

As I looked on, I saw a hare climbing the grave stone. Clutched in his mouth was a daffodil still dripped in the morning dew. He placed it besides my fresh roses and nuzzled it.

We looked at each other and connected on an unknown level…
He bequeathed his life and love to us. We are in his debt for life.


“ What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.”
~Pericles