One lucky book

Gleaming mysterious eyes

So close to the eyes,
like a reflection in the mirror.
Pounding on the heart,
like constant beating with a hammer.

A course of nature,
probably went so bad.
Holding hands are,
now standing up to wave goodbye.

Like the drops of rain,
So intact while in the air.
We too shatter like them,
The moment they hit the ground.

Flashes of memories,
appearing and disappearing
Like a lighting,
That follows the thunderstorm.

Standing before the mirror,
staring at the reflection,
Where am I lost?
All I see,
Are the colors.
Blurred and fussy,
It feels like
the mind is dipped-
in a deep thick fog.

All the senses lost.
I can hear,
can’t listen.
I can look,
can’t see.
I can sense,
can’t feel.
Just staring in the mirror,
Not sure whose reflection
am I staring at(?)

And then an image appears
A photograph.
A face.
Half-hidden
behind a book.
Held by those
soft and fair hands.
Gleaming eyes peeking
behind the book.
A mischievous look in them.

A nose,
those tender lips,
and chubby cheeks,
pressed against the pages.
I can imagine it all,
can’t feel.
A photograph of her,
hiding behind the colored pages.
I captured it
in black and white.

And I murmured softly,
‘Oh dear how I envy you,
For you’re a
One lucky book.’

#brainworkoriginals