She
was different from the rest of us,
Living
her own world,
Against
all comfort and love.
Grey
light,
The
colour of her luck,
Spouting
through her longings,
Begging
for sympathies,
Offering
her shabby life.
Once,
She
eased her steps and walked my way,
I
could still remember,
The
silent eyes,
How
could I deny,
Her
stitched smile.
I
handed her a silver bread,
She
took it with hands shaking,
And
I could see,
Those
silent eyes, smiling.
One
day,
In
the morning mist,
I
saw the girl,
Skipping
and laughing,
Along
the hardened path,
With
an ice cream in hand.
She
crossed the road,
Eager
to reach the end.
But
careless gait,
Led
her into misguided fate.
The
girl,
Ice
cream still in hand,
Surrounded
by wishful hearts,
Leaving
behind her weep,
To
be the owner of a long peaceful sleep.
