The park was gloomier than usual, people pass you, birds hover from above and speeding vehicles splash puddles almost anywhere. I come by this only place I can think, unfazed for many times have I ever visited it… to reasons so random or just by a thought out of being alone.
Thinking sorely, I managed to share a distant story…
Once a couple stood side by side,
Hands held close, entwined and bound.
The man higher, lean and broader.
The woman stood fair, in white, slender and stock.
Cruising along a patch of red roses
The woman looked up, answered by a smile.
Took the rose by her hand, pricked a finger or two
In the oddest the man barely noticed.
Red and hot, blood trickled slow,
The woman untangled their hands to the man’s surprise.
She showed him the wound and let out a laugh.
Silent. Meaningless. Vague.
The man shook his head, grabbed the rose
Shocked, the woman stared as blood oozed from his hand.
Yet a smile formed sincerely on his face,
And she let out another laugh.
Silent. Meaningless. Vague.
From afar, I stared at them.
Slowly the woman laid her head close to his chest,
Pulling her closer, placing his arms around.
A bystander sights to his uncommon companion,
“how could they know what one feels when he was deaf & she was mute!?”
It took me a good eavesdropping to share an innocent smile and a guilty nod as the couple passed in front of me.
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