Know not where it was born
It slips a silence into me
quietly….
It carries, in its shrine,
many
instruments of music, orchestrating
all of them
she begins as an outburst of
thousand drums
but collapses on the shore
as self-tuning Sitar
I listen to the quiet Sea
and its musings
They match with mine!
always wonder why no two
waves are same
I get no answer except for
their ebbing
Hinting
that no two tribulations are same!
I endeavor to run behind her
trailing frills
Attempt to untangle the
mystery
But return with a blue smile
Am I all alone by myself?
Suddenly I see a small wave
around my feet
As if to console me!
She has been a partner in my
soliloquy
Mixing black and white
emotions wisely
I bear the music in my heart
of hearts
She hugs me with all of her snowy
smile
She is always in me
My sea….my dear Sea!
( Vizag beach has always
been a spring of nostalgia – very many memoirs, haunting reminiscences; the
songs from the waves drench me while the droplets soak me in affection)
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