Who knows perhaps a thousand miles away,
where the sun is yet to set,
a dark haired lady is basking the orange rays,
whilst reading a book in a roadside cafe.
Her coffee has turned cold,
just like the pinkish tip of her nose,
but she only cares to get to the end,
or perhaps the beginning- of her unfinished story.
She picks up her purse, puts on her hat,
and hurries down the marbled stairs.
In the haste, she almost runs into a person,
who little minds her unexpected intrusion.
But they parted ways… she down the street, he up the cafe.
Captured by two usually unusual sights, he sees-
an unfinished cold cup of coffee, with a red lipstick stain,
another was book, on which lingered the fragrance of the lady.
So towards the street he rushes now
in the hope to find the rightful owner.
Alas, he couldn’t find the dark haired lady,
so he soon returns to the coffee corner.
×××
Who knows perhaps he turns around the pages of the book,
to find his own self in between the printed sheets.
He is the mighty sun, around which the story revolves.
The strength of his being,
his fragility that’s unseen,
…those strings are delicately handled.
So did the lady leave the book on purpose?
Of course she did!
She had almost been dying for her muse to read,
the book that she’s finished writing.
Will the person go in search for the dark haired lady? Or instead, the author of the book?
For even though both are one, one gave him love, the other, immortality.
(First published two years ago.)
I liked the storytelling qualities of this poem and your great picture!
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Art has never been my cup of tea, I thought I’d give it a try. After all, at home, in my pajamas, with a paint brush in my hand and who cares what do. 😉
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Amazing! I loved reading this. It’s so true that writing about us makes us immortal.
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Yes, it does makes one immortal. Immortal: as the person that we are, but also for the person the writer wants us to be. For in the end, sometimes the character between the sheets of printed paper barely resembles the person that one’s been writing about.
Nevertheless, immortality sounds good, doesn’t it?
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It sounds amazing!
You are so right! Others perceive us so differently to how we perceive ourselves. It makes us so multidimensional and interesting in a way.
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“multidimensional”..so far the best possible expression to define how that one person sees us .
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That person who sees so many parts of who we are and still finds it in them to appreciate what we are and would write about us is truly special and should be forever cherished. 🙂
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I love the mystery in this story, and the self portrait. You look so mischievous. 🙂
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I extend a hearty thanks to you, Lady Sylvia!
Well, you can’t expect a seventeen year old to not look ‘mischievous’, can you?
🙂
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Absolutely not. 🙂
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Reblogged this on my world.
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that was something that i was missing everyday and i enjoyed it and loved it
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Why thank you.
Your readership and kind words are much appreciated.
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Damn cool!
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Beautiful. ❤️
I love this.
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