I am walking, hands in my pocket, tossing the pebbles with my foot.
Taking my time for, my stride pushed as if there’s no existence of the phenomenon called time.
Rugged path with scrapped stretches of greens and winds rampaging over them.
Place where I as a child would have loved to play. Feels like walking for miles.
I can, I know, without dismay of destination and delusion of the start.Simply walk like the sun beams on rippled water.
All disarray when you have this feeling contended, satiated, when nothing about anything for anything by anything it’s just you.
It is then, that even the sun in month of May is not harsh and the December nights are cozy in your portico.
I am whole while walking through this virtual scenery, I remember nothing and no one, as if the last one left by myself.
And it’s all good and I am all good in this stagnation of thoughts and lapse of time.
By S.S. (My friend Little Miss)
Taking my time for, my stride pushed as if there’s no existence of the phenomenon called time.
Rugged path with scrapped stretches of greens and winds rampaging over them.
Place where I as a child would have loved to play. Feels like walking for miles.
I can, I know, without dismay of destination and delusion of the start.Simply walk like the sun beams on rippled water.
All disarray when you have this feeling contended, satiated, when nothing about anything for anything by anything it’s just you.
It is then, that even the sun in month of May is not harsh and the December nights are cozy in your portico.
I am whole while walking through this virtual scenery, I remember nothing and no one, as if the last one left by myself.
And it’s all good and I am all good in this stagnation of thoughts and lapse of time.
By S.S. (My friend Little Miss)
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