It was not a dark night, but quite the opposite actually. ‘Celestial’. Yes ‘celestial’ was the defining word. Thought Ginny, as she criss crossed from among the vehicles, on the red light. It had been drizzling the whole day long. The persevering consistency of the little rain drops, gave a sense of momentum to the time and place, while the life slowed down to a soulful silence.
As she walked along the hedgerow, she looked at the people swirling around. The racing cars, subduing each other’s voice by heavy blowing horns. She thought, can there be a place for dreams in this world? Here, where matter mattered so much… the place was certainly was the foundation for the dreams, but the reality of the time failed them miserably. Dreams dreams dreams, she almost chanted it faithfully in her heart, as she stepped under a tree. In the conclave, she typed the first stanza of her poem in the inbox of her cell phone.
What happens to a dormant dream?
Does it hover in the sky?
Like a lost lariat?
What happens to a melted one?
Does it evaporate?
To condense when we sneeze?
Stewing along the road, she rushed to the mall.
