This lake reminds me of Veronica, her blue ocean eyes and the sparkle in them whenever she would sit by this lake. I feel her here more than anywhere else...
She wasn't someone who catches attention immediately. Veronica was someone who draws you in only when you get to know her. She opens up her depths only when she let's you see. She was just like this hidden lake-serene, deep, mysterious, alive underneath a crystal surface.
It was during a rainy day, that I first saw her. She was standing at the bus shelter, clutching her tote bag full of books, looking up at the heavens in deep thought. Her face was pretty, but not in a striking way. It was a calm, casual, comfortable prettiness. Her hair lay in a loose braid, a few tendrils escaping the coils of the rope-like tie. I must admit, I never knew I remembered these many details until now, looking back at that moment I never believed to change so much for me.
We didn't talk that day, Veronica and I. We just stood there, in comfortable silence, waited out the rain and left our own ways. We met again a week later, near a coffee shop. Smiling our recognition, we again parted ways. It was only after half a dozen of such brief run-ins did we actually speak to each other.
I was browsing at a new book store, when I heard footsteps from behind. I turned to see the now familiar brunette walking towards me, smiling. I smiled back, expecting her to walk past me. But she stopped in front of me, extended her hand and said, "Hi, I'm Veronica."
That day we spoke of so many things. It was as if we had known each other long. We weren't two strangers making new friends, we were two individuals unearthing a bond that was already there.
She was a medical student with a passion for literature. She spoke of her favourite poets, novels and dissected them with surgical precision, explain to me the intricacies of what made them masterpieces. I listened engrossed as if I was witnessing the most fascinating thing for the first time. It was always like this when she spoke. Her words swallowed me whole, her eyes drew me in, till I drowned in its blue depths, forgetting this world.
We grew closer and closer every time we met. Once she invited me to her most favourite place. We trekked for about an hour before we reached this blue patch of heaven. This lake I sit watching now. Its not vast, yet its neither tiny. It was just the right size. Blue water eluding tranquility as it lay there meditating with the sky.
There was a tree trunk lying on its shore, wide enough for both of us to sit. Veronica walked up to it, sat down and patted the space beside her. I did not require another invitation. I went and sat beside her as we drank in the peace around us. It was forty years ago.
It was on the same tree trunk that Veronica sat, when I proposed to her a year after. It was by the same lake we spent our summers every year, until last year. This lake saw our life together, drank in our joys and drowned our sorrows, watered our dreams and washed our disappointments. This lake is in many ways our own.
I know this is where Veronica visits every night now. She had shed her body that had gracefully wrinkled. She must now have taken her eternally youthful form, gliding over this lake, resting on the tree trunk at times. I feel her presence even now, just beside me. I sense her lilac scent rising from the lake's depths. She's calling on to me.
"Veronica, I'm coming." I stand up, dust my pants off, as I walk towards the lake smiling. I didn't stop when the gentle waves of Lake touch my shoes. I walk right into the lake, smiling all along. I know Veronica is there, waiting for me.
Poems are mosaics made of broken pieces of heart, Gleaming in colours of palette of emotions, Blue, white, bright red and green.
Pictures they create, lyrical and poignant, Shattered pieces decorate the walls of the soul, Cracks filled with plaster of words, Glued together with sheer will to live.
Poems are mosaics made of broke pieces of heart, Proving that broken things become art too, Cracks running like veins carrying wisdom, Capture love, betrayal, trust, friendship, happiness and sorrow, With broken pieces irregular and misshapen forms the picture of life.
tree = someone with commendable thoughts/ any common person or kind people. Weeds = people who break and opt to spread wrongness . Overtaking = breaking the laws Steal = harrass , hurt , pollute or any dirt. Flora = peaceful people under any organisation.