It hits on me....

It lures me, it beckons me

It is the edge of the world

No, it does not promise me a pot of gold

Or eternal youth or unspeckled beauty

No, it does not warrant long-lasting riches or enduring health....

It hits on me with something else....

It creates images of faces I want to see

Of my Dad and my brother holding hands

It makes me hear sounds I want to hear 

Of their cheerful laughter and their hearty voices

It tempts me with the touch I want to feel

Of their warm hands and comforting clasps

It gives me a glimpse of the glee that is lost....

Should I reach out and touch those hands?

I wonder.....

I can't.....

Bells chime in the room

Sending waves of familiar sounds to my ears...

Mom waits for my call, 

Yearns to see me, hear me, hug me....

How can I go to the edge of the world

when I have so many things left undone here?

So many songs unsung?

So many smiles to spread?

So many tears to wipe?

So many little hands to hold and guide

to the path of life?

So many words of encouragement to write?

So many books of wisdom to read?

How can I go to the edge of the world

that sends visions of mirth and joy

when so many weeping hearts on this earth

are waiting to hear some strains of hope

I have work to do, loads of work to do

The edge of the world will have to wait....

For some other day, some other time.....

But it will be in me as long as I am,

In lonely thoughts

In solitary rooms

To give me a shoulder to lean on

To give me hope

To let me dream

Of those who can't be here anymore.....

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

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