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A sharp gust of wind swept by,
pausing briefly to whisper at the windows
Tap-tap, the shutters replied
dancing in mischievous rhythm.
Tall, unwavering walls listened in silence
wearing a faint smile—
a secret shared only among them
Until now, the room had known stillness.
Now, a hush stirred, like the breath held and released,
The chair groaned in protest,
the table pulsed, startled, alive
Loose papers rose and spun
like restless kites cut free from string
the newspaper flailed in defiance
the water bottle shivered on trembling feet.
The pen, as if beckoned by unseen hands
slipped from the edge
landing with a soft, inevitable thud.
The light, once calmly spread across the room
flickered then fled
vanishing into an unseen retreat.
I lay on the floor
hands beneath my head
a quiet spark awakening inside me.
Between the wind and stillness,
between the hush and my own breath,
A conversation began.
Something long frozen
began to thaw
And in the tender warmth of its melting
a bud inside my soul
began to bloom.
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Image © Varala Anand |
