Raindrop

26th Sept 2015

Tap! Tap! Tap! 

The raindrop taps my windscreen waking me up from my hazy thoughts.

“Remember me Blade Runner?” She says, reminding me of the time I had met her along with the cloud a few seasons back.

“How is the cloud?” she asks. 

“I don’t know well enough” surprised, I tell. 

Saddened but determined she withdraws but clings on to my windscreen but looking the other way.

Minutes pass, “I am sad and bitter,” I say; “I am sad too but not bitter” she replied. 

I describe my life in the last few seasons, how I have not been able to walk and run because I have lost my crutches. How my crutches have become old and frail. She expressed her surprise and told how much she enjoyed seeing me run around the meadows as if there was no tomorrow.

She tells her story. How she had her dreams of floating over mountains and seas and the dream of seeing new countries and pastures…enjoying the weightlessness. How the cloud was suddenly struck by a lightning and had to rain. And she had to drop from the height hurtling towards the ground.

And we both laughed. Laughed at our situations.

“Are you still sad?”, “Can’t we both be happy?” I asked.

“I am happy because I fell on your window screen and made you happy,” she said smiling and slipping down the glass towards the ground leaving a streak of grey and wetness. 

Chalo milke dafna detehain.

Chalo milke dafna detehain.

Let it be buried,

unknown, unsung like an unwanted child,

in the darkness of the night, 

before we change our mind.

With no entries made in the registry, 

and the keeper looking away,
we will be lucky if no one comes our way.

With the breaking of the rays, 

we can wear our smile without fear,

refuse to recognize that unmarked mound,

 which the keeper would have cared.

It would then just be a number, 

a date not to remember,

we would go about living our lives of exemplary perfection,

with the sound of tiny footsteps following us forever.