I wish I was a poet. Then words would come flying by, on this winterish-summery, rainy evening, like the seagulls do in front of me ….. ain’t this pretty? This is right out side our apartment…I stare and stare at the silvery still waters, sitting on that wooden bench, and dream a zillion dreams. And I think of Richard Bach, and some memories that come attached to the author…..Jonathan Livingston Seagull. Jonathan was my inspiration through my college days, and then I distanced myself from Richard Bach’s books, for reasons that better remain the way they are, unsaid. And then like Wormie’s granny says: God gave us memory to forget. Today Jonathan flew past me, and inspired me again.
‘Muuummmmmaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, dekho!!!’ There goes my
poetry. The park behind me, has Meeshu…enough to scare away the gulls and jolt me out of this trance.
Coming sweetheart.
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post 30!!