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 simply the realization of breathing the same air, being in the same place. My city never seemed so alluring before he came to make it home for me. I remember how the cuckoo's songs enchanted the poets. But the wind that carries his whispers seems more soothing, than any melodious masterpiece.
We change, little by little, because we start accepting the presence of someone more than what created the distance in between. We learn to grow through the cracked floors even knowing that someday the blossoms of hope will be stepped over. But then, it's always beautiful when you grow for someone, to provide them the shade to overcome the storm. May be one day the storm will pass and we will finally see what kept us together. Till then, let us talk through the wind, sending some tokens for one another to survive at the end of the day.
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