Cross Road

The boundary wall, front of the house
Waist high, painted yellow
Sitting over, in conversation…

The metallic clamor, high pitched horns
Shred the black muslin of the night
Light and sound shows of life play on.

Time would flow, or stop in sense
Over words exchanged; over nuances strange
And the cool zephyr, some rustling leaves-

Sometimes walking down the road
Treaded lanes, by lanes of life
Lost in words… more than words?

The wagons of life pierce the darkness
The head-lamps create crazy patterns
As the sound of silence wrecks the night!

Have said so much, in joy and pain
Heard them all of seasons in the sun
But loved them all within the bounds of a heart.

Traces come back, some words of spring,
Nostalgia grips for those pains and hurts
When the words were damp, moist with pain…

Each one mine, those words, feelings
Witnessed by the nocturnal traffic
Etched on the yellow brick and mortar.

But now no more… no words, for long
The seasons lost in the black hole of time
The vacuum rolls inside me deep.

She walked across the cross-road alone
Lost in the traffic, the voice, the seasons-
The black o’ the night lost its story-teller

The yellow boundary wall gathers dust
But do memories rust in the dungeons of time?
Honest emotions though… run over –

In that cross-road of life-
I lost the story, I lost the words
And now…
The sun and rain aint hurt no more
And the nights, seem a stranger-
Filling the gap before a new dawn breaks…

Only the cross-road stole my seasons in the sun.