He is like the sudden rain in winter. When all the living things wear the scarf of grey, when green becomes snowy and tenderness disappear, rain sprinkles life to dry surface welcoming a further session of shriller phase. Likely when the hope almost dries up and petals of memories get crunched as I take a walk towards the past, in that dessert of seclusion when things start freezing he appears like the blissful rain which pours the heart with hope and verve to live it again to tackle the upcoming dreadful phase. That's he! Healer yet harmful.
Things went magically insane the very moment someone's presence rejuvenated life back into the dead city of mine. A gush of wind passed by in the wind hushing some symphony of belongingness. I stood still for a while in amusement looking at the way things were around, all of a sudden. The sick old tree beside the lake had tiny green leaves peeping out from the lifeless branch. The heart sighed after a long; the change was for good. It was almost evening and the dark didn't scare me. The lonely cuckoo was duetting with some other bird which I failed to recognize. My world was getting dipped into the leftover of the sunset, all magical and bright. Almost a month passed since that day. Today, the wind reminded me of that time when he arrived with hands full of amusement, restlessness, sparkles and magic. The wind is crisp and soothing, despite all the heated situations in between. May be it's not the city, may be it's not the wind nor even those golden hues. May be it is ...
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