By Chinmay Chahar
Evening by the window
Under a pink soothing sky
I smell the yellow pages
And the rustling wind comes by
Burying my head down
I follow along the words
Onto a new adventure,
Away from the public eyes
I meet a lonely stranger
With yellow dusky eyes
He speaks his name soft,
In tones deep and wise
He lives by the creek
And owns a little hut
Those weary old hands
Who knows what underlies
It was a spring afternoon
Ah, those lovely Bluebells
Reminds the stranger
Of the forgotten farewells
But he carries on humming
The song of the wind
He brushes away
Time's lingering haze
As memories surface
Through afternoon's glaze
As he poured steaming tea
With trembling grace
While outside his horses
Thundered through space
The silver spirited beasts
Reminded him of valour
Of spine and of mettle
Something he used to be.
I watched him closely
Through fading daylight
His weathered features
A story in sight
Each line on his face
A chapter untold
His soul's reflection
In eyes growing old
He wears a long smile
Through most of the days
Though it fails to hide that big scar
Running through his face
What keeps his soul sheltered
Behind those tired eyes
I turn through the pages
Seeking truth's disguise
Trying to understand
His weathered hands tremble
As twilight draws nigh
His voice breaks the silence
Like thunder in May:
"Oh merciless wind
That stirs memories deep,
You wake ancient ghosts
That I've tried to keep.
I was the man who stood through it all,
When peace turned to fray."
"Born between the marches
Where west meets southern shore,
You force me to remember all
The weight of days before.
Forged my heart in the heat
Of the war; echos horrify
I was the man who bore it all
When shadows ruled the day."
"Lost my love, my kin—
To brutalities unseen;
Since then I've walked alone
Through nights of Halloween.
But here beside the creek
There's peace, I was once denied
I was the man who lived through it all
While others slipped away."
"O harsh wind,
Let this old fool settle
When the autumn bird sings
Amidst the pansy petals;
Let me rest.
Let me take a break;
For i wanna end my suffering
From this long long battle..."
Then softly he whispered,
Eyes fixed on distant hills,
"But know this, dear reader,
Through all of life's ills:
Though war took my brothers,
And time stole my youth,
These creekside moments
Hold fragments of truth.
Each morning I witness
The sun pierce the dark,
Each evening brings starlight
That heals like a spark.
My battles weren't wasted,
Though heavy the cost—
They taught me that living
Means more than what's lost."
His words fade to whispers,
Like leaves in the wind,
The last page turns softly
As his tale comes to end.
Sitting by my window,
His story in my hands,
I feel tears gathering
As I start to understand.
The weight of his journey
Makes my own heart ache,
While pondering life's mysteries
That keep us all awake.
When paths seem uncertain,
What tests our will?
I trace the question
Like footprints until
I remember his smile
By the creek's gentle flow,
A quiet reminder
Of strength below.
So with wisdom hard-earned,
I close the tale tonight,
Back at my window
Where pink skies burn bright.