Dawn
Thoughts flapping around like untied shoelaces. Breaking my stride and slowing me down. A fleeting smile crosses my lips as I think about what someone once told me. “ Don't think too much”, “ Don't live in the past”. I wonder why we hate the past so much. Aren't we supposed to derive lessons out of it or are we supposed to discard it like a child's toy – broken and irrelevant. To be stepped over and forgotten. Are the flowers and thorns of the past to be accepted, and made our teachers for the future or are they to be avoided like lepers peppering the streets of old Calcutta.
I see the last passing compartment of the last train I was to take. Lights flickering behind the Guard's compartment signalling it's end. It felt like providence when the winds drew into my ears, the haunting melodies of Jim Morrison singing, “This is the end, my beautiful friend. The End”. I am now greeted by the engulfing darkness and the sounds of downing shutters as the last humans, along with the last niceties, move away and merge into the balmy night. It is time to leave. It is time to live. It is time.
Page break
Her fragrance lingers on
crumpled sheets
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